Set The Fire To The Third Bar
by TheRedHerring760
Summary: Her memory kept flashing images of that night, every flaw in her plan that taunted her whenever she blinked. - Set 5 years after the Adversary is diminished.
1. There Is No Peace That I've Found So Far

Disclaimer : I own absolutely 0% of The Blacklist. These are stolen toys from Brokenkamp's treasure trove. I'm just borrowing them, giving them a go, and then I promise they will be returned in their proper positions once finished. I also do not own the lyrics / song this story was inspired by, it belongs to Snow Patrol.

AN : I began this fic several months ago, but until now I didn't have the courage to post it. It's a multiple chapter story that is already well into the 14.5k word range. It's almost at it's end, so updates should come regularly, at least so long as the muse allows me to finish before my posting catches up. I was going to post on Monday, but work has dampened my week, and wont have time.

Hope this is satisfactory, and not too teasing... ;)

* * *

_I find the map and draw a straight line. Over rivers, farms, and state lines. The distance from "A" to where you'd be. It's only finger-lengths that I see. I touch the place where I'd fine your face, my fingers in creases of distant dark places. _

_I'm miles from where you are, I lay down on the cold ground._

_I, I pray that something picks me up and sets me down in your warm arms._

_- Snow Patrol_

* * *

Her windshield wipers were working in overtime as they fought against the heavily falling rain. The dense drops echoed off the metal roof of the car, mixing with the soft pacifying sound of soft jazz flowing from her speakers. Her mind was left somewhere in the Post Office, and Liz felt like she was flying on autopilot just to get home.

Hours have been spent trying to dissect their current case. Searching for flaws that were nonexistent, seemingly no way of gaining the upper hand in sight. Time was tapering off, and the imminent attack that loomed over their heads mocked them at every misstep they took. And they have taken several.

She pulled the car up to the brownstone, and shut down the engine, watched the thick droplets coat the windshield glass. Emptily staring at them as they gathered the orange hue of the streetlight that hung above her. Distorting the reflection of the lanky poll, like a circus mirror.

Her body was extremely sore from all the countless time spent hunched over at her desk. Which only added to the inner misery the markings today overrun her with. She breathed in, and her eyes slipped shut for a moment. A vain attempt at silencing her thoughts. Pulling her coat tighter against her; she braced for the onslaught of rain mixed with the cold night air.

It blanketed her the moment she stepped out the door, soaking her to the core as she fumbled with her keys. She nearly trips running up the shallow steps, hardly being able to see as she blinked the droplets from her lashes. Cursing under her breath, she finally locates the key and frustratingly shoves it into the slot, twisting and quickly entering. Hudson greeted her enthusiastically, or at least as enthusiastically as an aged dog could. She smiled and leaned down, scratching at his ears and welcoming his sloppy kisses. "Having a lonely day old man?" Liz gave his head a pat. "Come'on," she nudges him gently with her knee and shuts the door behind her. Stripping out of her wet clothes on the welcome mat, scrunching them together and proceeding through Hempstead's home. She has been living here for quite a number of years, but she never could bring herself to refer to it as her own. It will always be and always has been Hempstead's.

Making for the laundry room, she tosses the soaked clothes into the wash with a basket of other laundry she's been meaning to get to and runs it. She shivers, as she grabs fresh clothing, removing her soaked undergarments and slipping on the dry counterparts. She's just through the living room, reaching for the throw blanket on the couch when she hears her cellphone begin to ring. She groans loudly rushing toward the front door, rummaging through her coat pockets to find it. "Hello?" she answers in a huff, waiting for a reply. She hears nothing but blaring music, that sounded absolutely dreadful.

"Liz," Ressler shouted eventually, and she had to pull the phone from her ear as he continued to speak "Liz, I am not sure if you can hear me... but we are out at that bar, that Irish pub Meera enjoys. We all decided to go out for drinks even though we agreed not to." his voice suddenly dips as he says, "it's the 5th anniversary. It didn't feel right, and it doesn't feel right not having you here." it quiets suddenly and at first she thought the connection dropped until he spoke once more. "They play absolutely horrendous music here, but it was her year to pick a spot." he laughs, and she can't help but grin believing Meera picked it purposely to torture them knowing everyone hated it. "So what do you say, Agent Keen?"

"It's pouring outside, I'm already in sweats..." she snorts her disinterest, and moves back to the living room. Flopping down over dramatically in _his_ spot.

"Meera said you wouldn't come, and not because of her bar choice." His voice went soft, and there was a sinking feeling in the pit of Liz's stomach at what may follow; and then he spoke. "Liz... you know-"

"Don't do it Donald." She warned quickly, already on edge, not in any mood to talk about the Adversary. In no condition to celebrate what happened five years ago.

_There was nothing for her to celebrate anyway_.

And she was certainly in no mood to talk about it with Ressler. No matter how close they have grown over the years, talking about Red was completely off limits. "There never was a body Liz," he mumbles quickly, there are loud knocks on the door followed by shouted words. "Hold on!" Ressler yells back, but at least he had the decency to cover the microphone this time "Listen, Liz. If you need anything, you only need to ask."

"I'm fine," she says, unable to conceal the agitation in her voice. "Have fun, live life. God knows you need it Haircut." she teases in a halfhearted attempt to lighten the phone call. "Goodnight."

As he mirrored her farewell, she closed her eyes ending the call. Willing herself from the darker corner of her mind once again, where her thoughts of Red resided. She gazes out the window, into the dark sky and supposes the weather was fitting. Today was a day of mourning, not a day of celebration. At least Mother Nature seemed to agree with her.

The first year she went out with the gang, convinced completely Red would pop into her apartment and tell her everything was okay. Every year that followed and no contact was made she vowed she wouldn't mock his memory surrounded by people who cared very little about the man _until_ his death. So she made a flimsy excuse why she couldn't stay shortly after she arrived. Or she just disappeared that day all together, turned her phone off and escaped the world. Liz would then crawl under the blankets of some lousy hotel and succumb to emotions she tried hard to bury deep within her. When the morning's sun arose, she left that Liz in that room and proceeded behind the mask she kept in a jar by the door.

Liz watches the thick droplets gather and fall down, she tries to concentrate on their relaxing repetitive pattern. The tears of the Heavens would cry the tears she wished to on Earth.

Her memory kept flashing images of that night, every flaw in her plan that taunted her whenever she blinked. She reaches forward and grabs an abandoned bottle of the distilled alcohol and drinks deeply from it. The burning sensation of the disgusting fluid, instantly triggers the want to cough but Liz forces herself to hold it in. Even after years of drinking the cloudy substance she still wasn't used to the taste in the slightest.

But on days when she thought of him, and on darker days when she truly allowed herself to miss him she sought his comfort of choice. The spot that he preferred, the drink he would sip while watching the sun break through the trees. How many nights after a tough case did they occupy this couch? How many times did she seek comfort in his silent presence? Far too many to count. She shakes her head and drinks another large gulp of Hempstead's moonshine. Continued to down it in a pace that was surely unhealthy.

Her body grows numb as the alcohol settled into her blood stream. Her eyes were growing heavy in previous exhaustion and now drunken stupor, Liz fought to hold them open. Struggled to keep her head held upright. Her stationary couch was suddenly moving in a lulling motion, and Liz just knew if she was to even attempt to stand her legs would fold beneath her. She rests her head against the back and allows herself to drift out to sea, listening to the peaceful patter of the falling rain upon the windowpane.

Felt the demons that awaited her in sleep as they began to sink their teeth in. It was only a matter of time before they devoured her whole.

* * *

"_This is the spot, it is completely blind" Ressler drew a circle with his pointer finger over the right side of the building "Once you go in there. We won't be of any use, if you decide to back out." Liz peered around his shoulder to better see the print. "Meera believes they will take you here," he points to a juncture that was beyond a thick wall. "She is positive that is where they plan to exit, it's a dead zone, a tunneling system or something. Your temporary chip will go black and they will have those several minutes to cease to exist in the world." _

_She shakes her head, takes a step backward. Crosses her arms over her chest defensively. "There is nothing else we can do." _

"_Liz, Red is blinded by rage and fueled by revenge, and that's without your involvement. He'll never agree with what you're about to do. When he finds out..." Ressler scoffs, clearly agitated. His fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose. "He's not thinking of a way out, he's seeking a means to an end. This isn't Raymond Reddington your comrade, or whatever he is to you. this is Raymond Reddington the selfish prick who will not stop at any cost to get the guy who ruined his life. He may just use your bait to gain the upper hand. You may end up dead, you do realize this?" _

"_I trust him." she narrows her eyes in warning._

"_You are not only gambling with your life, but you will be subjecting yourself to God knows what. You are nothing but a pawn... you are giving in to the Adversary's manipulation. We just need more time. You don't have to do this." he's clearly frustrated, his body language was screaming it at her though his words teetering on the edge of begging. His voice strained with genuine concern and worry._

"_Which I am giving you." she points out, lifting the bullet proof vest from the table; slipping her arms inside and shrugging it upward. The heaviness settled onto her shoulders. Traveled the expanse of her body, her knees adjusting to the added weight. She stands taller, and shifts it around slightly._

_Ressler's entire body deflates in the known defeat and his eyes soften as they look into hers. "There is no doubt in my mind that they will torture you to get to him, are you even prepared for that?"_

_Her eyes growing dark, stare narrowly at his. "What exactly do I have left to lose?" she tightens the straps of her bullet proof vest across her chest and waist, checking her gun, and switching off the safety. "I'm going in there. They will take me, and when I am taken you will save those people they threatened to kill in my name. We lost four already, that's four deaths because of me." She looks at him, and sees the anxiety illuminating his eyes. "I am going in there... alone Ressler. I will hear absolutely no more protesting. This is my decision, you nor Red can change my mind." she slips the gun into its holster. He surprises her when he reaches out and grabs her wrist and she immediately tries to yank it out of his grasp. "I won't have any more innocent girl's blood on my hands, what part is so hard for you to understand?" venom laden in her words that pushed out through her gritted teeth._

"_Be careful." he says sternly. "There is a reason this guy is-" _

"_I don't need a lecture on the dangers that lay ahead. I am no longer the disheveled green agent who stumbled into the Post Office." she pulls one final time and he releases. "When they take me, Red will find me. And it will be up to you, Meera, and Aram to work quicker than Red can. Otherwise Cooper will have another vacant spot filled in the morgue with the Adversary's body inside of it and unless he can make the dead talk, there will be no answers." she lets out a ragged breath. "Don't follow me in there Donald, don't be stupid, don't be the hero." _

"_I'm not the one playing at being a hero Liz... although you're more like a sacrificial lamb." He breathes his words under a sullen breath. His head falling down as she disperses, making for the path Meera suggested she follow._

* * *

Mistakes are mine, and mine alone.

If you feel inclined, don't be shy leave me a review. Good or Bad, constructive criticism only enchances the writer.

With Love,

- Red Herring


	2. Ghosts With Just Voices

Disclaimer can be found on the first page... still only borrowing.

* * *

She wakes with a jolt bolting upright, her heart thumping it's way all the way up into her throat. Liz grips a hand directly over top her chest and begins to deeply inhale through her nose and outward from her mouth. She settles back into the couch as the room twirls around her, her eyes squeeze shut not being able to endure the offensive light of the room.

She is just slipping back into sleep when she hears a thick rapping of a fist upon the door echoing through the hall. She opens her eyes, tuning in as best as she possibly could. When nothing but silence greets her, she believes it a delusion; until it begins once again. She clambers to stand, and reaches for the blanket to wrap around herself as she wobbles toward the front door. "I'm coming!" she shouts, her vision blurred and unfocused as she reaches for the lock and doorknob. She creaks it open and peers through it "Hello?" is questioned but is only answered with the brushed howling of the wind. She opens the door fully, searching for any sign of life. It's only when she's about to close the door that the bright red gift wrapped item burst through her haze.

It looked very much like a champagne bottle. She bends at the knee, sweeps it up and clutches it to her chest; taking it inside and locking the door once more. _Red_... her mind flutters, and her heart constricts tightly inside her chest as her drunken fingers fumble with the wrapping paper. Shreds of it trailing on the wooden flooring in her path; and with each rip of paper, her heart pinched tighter, and tighter until the item was exposed.

Her brow furrows as she examines the bottle in her hand. It was relatively light, perhaps even empty. It was hard to see through the black tint of the plain bottle even when held up to the bright light of the hallway, the cork in direct contrast to the container had intricate details engraved into it.

She pulled it as she flopped back onto the couch, and the cork gave easily with a lovely little _plop_.

All at once, thousands of thoughts seemed to form and run at high velocity through her. But the only thing she could truly grip was the fact that she held in her hands evidence. Real, concrete evidence that her stubborn grip on that tiny frayed, last string of hope of his survival was not in vain. The exhilaration of having some form of contact with Red after all these years of silence. Had whatever functioning brain cells running wild like a cat hyped up on catnip. She settles the cork into her lap, fully convinced that was the puzzle needing to be solved.

However, on the off chance he slipped some note. Or a cellphone into this bottle she refused to divert her attention without further inspection. The darkness of the bottle made it nearly impossible to see inside, no matter how hard she squinted or forced light through.

Frustration causes her to act rashly, and before it registers her arm lifts and falls crashing the bottle into the edge of the coffee table. The sound the bottle makes upon impact is quite pleasing, as the shards of shattered glass scatter and surround her bare feet. She giggles inappropriately, her emotions lopsided.

Liz searches around her for anything, any miniscule object but finds absolutely nothing. _It has something to do with this cork..._ she decides, _a clue... a riddle, it's something._ She takes the cork and palms it, curling her fingers around the bark and closing her eyes. Allows the sense of relief to travel through the length of her body, casting a renewed dizziness upon her. Liz tries to still her jumbled mind once she gains control of her feelings, she just couldn't align herself. The excitement, the relief, coupled with the alcohol. She were in no form to play any sort of mental game. She weighs going to sleep, postponing until morning when the alcohol wore off.

"Red," she whispers aloud, to the quiet home he once occupied. "Why couldn't you make this easier on me?" she lets out a heavy sigh staring at the swirls of the cork, her eye trained on the cursive letters that were so tiny she missed them on first inspection, barely saw them at all in her hazy state even now. The tip of her nail runs down every swirl that looked to be pulling downward, away from the flat top and down to the thinner bottom. Leaning over she grabs her cellphone, and snaps a picture of the cork. Using the image to zoom into the letters, and the message that read_ Police..._ she laughs, a full delirious laugh as she mutters "Sending me A _Message In A Bottle._.." she continues to twirl the cork. "And what if someone intercepted this Red? That isn't exactly a clever clue." she hums.

"_How could they intercept something when it was hand delivered to your doorstep unannounced? In the middle of the night no less." _She could just hear his rebuttal, could almost see that quirky head tilt and slight upturn of his lip in mockery.

"If I were being watched by security-" she offers meagerly.

"_Come now Lizzie... Like I of all people wouldn't take a precaution." _she hears him scrutinize, and she shakes her head at the ridiculousness of arguing with a figment of Red her imagination conjured up.

She stands, careful of where she steps around the glass. Hudson's ears perk up at the movement and his sleepy eyes droop "Come on buddy." she slaps her thigh, whistles and he complies. He reaches her slowly, lazily licks at her hand. She flexes her fingers and scratches at his jaw, and calls him through the little library, then toward the bedroom.

She stares around the room, and absorbs Red's influence. The FBI turned it inside out once he'd gone missing, they weren't convinced his death wasn't a staged event, at least at first. When they finished, it left Hempstead's home in a catastrophic state, which truly devastated Liz; so much so she called Mr. Kaplan in near tears begging her to sort everything out, to stitch the sanctuary back together once again.

It was only after which she moved into the home unbeknownst to Cooper and the gang. At first it didn't feel right. It felt like she was invading his personal space. It felt haunted by ghosts. It was almost like he was still there, and whenever she would turn a corner she half expected to find him leaning against the frame of a door watching her.

For so long she dared not entering his bedroom. For months she slept on the couch, waking up with a kink in her neck and a sore back. She would return to her apartment as the sun broke through the sky, shower and head to work. Then come nightfall find herself occupying the couch once more. Hopelessly waiting for him to walk through the front door in the middle of the night. When it approached a year into his death Liz fully moved in, and finally ventured into the restricted aspects of his home.

The bedroom was larger than her old apartment's living space, and brighter than she imaged it to be. For some reason in her imagination the room would be dark, and brooding. But it was more light and airy, with blue-grey tinted walls, and curtains that dressed the windows in a rustic gold color, the bottoms where the tassels hung had a lining of blue that matched the walls. The bed framed in dark nearly black wood, etched and engraved in beautiful designs that reached the ceiling at the edges. Swirling around the posts was a grey material that swooped down in the centers. Liz was never a fan of canopy beds, but of course Red would have the ability to change her opinion upon just sight alone. It looked royal and fit the styling of the room.

There was a desk by the window, that had old paperwork scattered around and an old lamp that looked priceless. She reckoned that it probably was some priceless artifact. She never touched it.

A chase lounge adjoined the opposite wall, and there above it was an abstract art piece hanging, of a pipe and French words beneath it. But other than that and the side tables beside the bed, the room was rather empty. She doesn't know what she expected, considering he moved so frequently.

The bathroom was still full of his things, aftershave and numerous bottles of all shapes, sizes, and all mostly without labels line the counter. A marble bowl, horsehair brush, and straight razor neatly bordered the corner. She couldn't help herself untwisting the aftershave and inhaling the scent. A sense of calm subsiding within her instantly, followed by a stinging that pinched the back of her eyes. His walk in closet held his suits, and unsurprisingly was color coordinated and immaculate. Rows of fedoras, Italian leather shoes, and belts, that probably cost a small fortune. For a while the fabrics still held his scent, and the very slight tinge of cigar. She wondered if it were his obsessive nature that organized the closet or hired help. She smirked and added obsessive compulsive behavior to the list of his known personality traits.

Her biggest weakness was his bedding, the thick blankets encased her like a cocoon making her feel safe. For the first few years, after cases that left her utterly worn down, frail and seeking him. She would spray the blanket lightly with the cologne left behind. But that bottle was long gone now, a comfort she mourned often.

Try as she might to find the company of the product, she always came out empty handed. Deducting that Red probably had the scent tailored to him, because it would make him unmistakable. She would give anything to have the blanket smell of him tonight.

Snapping from her memories, Liz grips the cork between her teeth as she aids Hudson up onto the high bed. Then proceeds to turn down the blanket on her side. Slipping the cork under her pillow she lays her head down securing it beneath her. Hudson moves closer to her, and she welcomes the warmth that extends off him. Her eyes drift closed as she tries to find the ray of light amongst his vague clue. All while she felt the powerful pull of sleep settling into her limbs once more.

* * *

_It's so dark she can't even see her extended hand that was out in front of her. Her senses were tingling, her brain sabotaging her, forming shadows that moved in the forms of people. Liz struggled to decipher what was really being seen and what was pure imagination. As she continued to walk forward; Voices were heard slightly in the distance, in that dark area Ressler warned her against. She followed, a moth to a lone light tinkering in everlasting darkness. Her instinct of fight or flight began to build with each step she took. Moving as quietly as possible through the darkness, listening all the while for any movement besides her own. But all she could hear for a long while was the drum of her heart, and her unsteady breathing. _

_A deep voice echoed and bounced off the concrete walls of the abandoned building. The light inside the room stretched through the door way. She was mindful of where she stood against the wall, safely encased into the shadows and out of the way of the pale golden light. "Sir, the agent has been spotted entering the building. She's moving through the darkest zones, Mark... he's lost her. She knows the floor plan." _

_There are words that are shared, quiet words and she struggles to make out their significance. It may as well have been in a foreign language. Perhaps it was. Liz shifts and moves closer to the light, clings tighter to the wall. Her hands gripped her gun tightly, the backing resting at her chest... they could take her, but she was not going to go without a fight._

_Long moments of silence stretch and linger, she kicks off the wall assuming they had moved. Facing the light, with her back naked to the darkness. A novice move that left her vulnerable. She feels the cool metal press to her temple, followed by a rough hand covering her mouth. "Hand me your weapon. Slowly," the voice says into her ear. "Attempt anything and-" _

"_Yeah, yeah-" Liz interrupts with a careless whisper, "I'm going to move it out to the side..." she warns and elongates with an extended arm, on the side he held the gun to her temple. Forcing him to either lower his gun, switch hands or reach awkwardly with his free hand; either way it provided her a moment to attack that would catch him by surprise. He does remove the gun and that's when she acts quickly. Guided by flashes of memory from a time Dembe taught her how to disarm and regain control. She twists, punching a precise blow with the end of her gun to his wrist, knocking his weapon to the floor. His free hand grabs her barrel too late as it turns it into his stomach and fires, once, twice, three times. _

_It all happens so quickly. She barely has time to register, until the loud ringing in her ears snaps her back to reality. His body falls at her feet, and she thanks the darkness for shielding her from seeing his face. The tacky warm wetness of his blood stained her hands. Liz remains standing there in shock, knowing her proximity was blown. _

_Realization settling over her, that this was it. This was the beginning of the end._

_When she is dragged into the light and into the room it took several seconds for her eyes to adjust. Though nothing could have readied Liz for the image before her. There was so much blood, so much that it's smell lingered in the stagnant air. _

_There was a chair placed in the middle of the room, and Red's second bodyguard Jackson sat, head hung and passed out. Or dead... Liz couldn't be too sure. He'd been missing for several days, and it seems he had been tortured for all that time. His skin looked almost grey in color, and it was covered in gashes, deeply set bruises lined his bared ribs, eyes swollen shut. _

_The tall man with greying hair, and broad shoulders in her peripheral vision laughing pulls her from staring at Jack. "He's not much of a talker, but I guess he didn't have to speak much." he moves to stand in front of her, and when he forces her gaze onto his, her breath catches. _

_His eyes a mirror image of her own. _

"_You made this far too easy," he stares at her, observing her face as she remained stunned silent. "Raymond surrounds himself with people who are loyal to him. I suppose you are no exception. Or was it the four women who died in your name, that drew you out of hiding Elizabeth?" his eyes narrow, as he reaches forward and grips her chin, she jerks out of his hold. At least attempts to before his nails sink into the thin highly sensitive skin there, holding her firmly in place. "You look so much like your mother," he mutters, removed and with a drip of spitefulness. He then quickly releases her as if touching her was burning through him, snaps his fingers, staring off beyond her shoulder. "Tranquilize her, pull the chip, we have to move." _

_There is a pinch in her neck, and her legs immediately go limp as she falls forward. Landing in the arms of the man previously only known to her as the Adversary, his lips graze the shell of her ear, and Liz feels his warm breath as he exhales. "Are you still afraid of the dark Elizabeth?" he questioned softly "It's going to be dark for a while, but it's only temporary. I promise."_

"_You shouldn't have come Liz." she hears the familiar voice cough out and her heart ruptures at the broken sound. She tries to turn her head but she lacked the ability to do anything but hang limply in the arms of this monster. _

_A second pair of arms lift her upward from behind once the Adversary demanded they take her off him. The man pulls her off the Adversary's chest to an almost standing position. Forcing her to watch._

"_Perhaps she shouldn't have come..." Liz knew by the tone in which he spoke what was coming next. It was the same tone Red had as he pushed the Stewmaker into his final bath. __She watches in horror as he moves to the steel table that sat besides Jack, lifting a knife to the light, allowing it to glint. She quickly closes her eyes as he holds his arm outward in a swinging position._

_Desperately tries to deafen her ears to the noises of the choked gurgling that enveloped her. _

* * *

_AN: I am running on very little sleep, but I only just now got around to watching last night's Blacklist episode and I am feeling all these feels... So I thought I would put this out early. As I am not sure how I am meant to nap now... I'm high on Lizzington energy. _

_As always, mistakes are mine and mine alone. If you do so feel inclined, please don't be shy drop me a review. Any review, good or bad means a lot to a writer. _

_- Red Herring_


	3. A Joy You Can't Keep In

Disclaimer can be found on the front page.

* * *

The Bee Hive was buzzing frantically when the elevators doors opened on the ground floor. Liz took a deep inhale as she stepped forward into the mess. Aram was quick to come up beside her "What's going on?" she questioned, a slight anxiousness building that it may be Reddington related. When she gazed at the images on the screens and finds no traces of him her tense muscles loosen.

"One of Meera's informants leaked info on the Death Adder in the early AM," Aram informed her wistfully, and Liz struggled to remain attentive to him. Her hand skimming over her pocket to feel the cork securely in place."But, it was false information. A smoke screen."

"Her attack is scheduled in 72 hours..." Liz voice trailed off. "We're missing something important. Something right below our noses."

"Ressler has been mulling over Red's abandoned files on her, but so far. Nadda," he shrugs, stopping right at her office door. "And us in the tech world are only slightly aware of her cyber movements. I suppose she doesn't get her nickname for nothing... it would appear she is nocturnal much like her moniker, any activity she does is at night, like her strikes they are always at night-" he draws, his words further and further away from him. Shakes his head, before he lets out a dour sound.

"Does she have any known activity recently?" Liz questions, adjusting the strap of her messenger bag. Trying to convey interest where she was lacking. Her thoughts kept drifting, firmly wrapped upon the small bark object pressing into her thigh.

"She definitely is up to something, but it is being done through several mirror servers. She's good, but not as good as I am, I will crack down on her." Aram smirks smugly, and straightens his back to stand just slightly taller. His chest puffing out in a way that reminded Liz of a small animal trying to appear larger to some unknown threat.

Liz reaches upward and pats his shoulder with a tiny grin, "I would like Red's files, Donald tends to skim and jump over things when he is frantic."

"You know, it's in times like these when I really miss Mr. Reddington." he grumbles as his eyes cast downward. Liz can't help the frown that settles onto the corners of her lips. Aram from the very beginning seemed to have an odd sort of respect for Red, where the others did not. She never understood the relationship the two of them formed, it was the most puzzling. She couldn't pin point their turning point like she could with the others. Even now, Aram barely brought Red up. Perhaps because he was always so sensitive to her feelings, knowing more than anyone he was a sore subject to touch upon. "I'll have someone bring them to you."

Liz knew Ressler preferred to be amongst the chaos of the hive then holed up in his office; so she more than likely had this room to herself for the day.

Not bothering with the overhead lights she moves for her chair. Reaches over for the small lamp, and pulls the string. Reclining back, centering herself internally and disposing of all distractions. Though it was constantly teasing, and quite literally digging into her.

She hears the door click open and shut gently. Hears the chair pull out and pull forward once more, his presence was that of a distressed man. Thinking of how, or when to break the silence of the room, she could imagine his jaw working; clenching and then unclenching repeatedly. Perhaps his mouth even opening and snapping shut once or twice.

When she could no longer stand it she spoke. "How was last night?" she investigates, a lame attempt to break the quilted tension. To open up the lid of whatever was to come on his end. Pulling the chair down from its extended back position and casting her eyes onto him, she dresses her face with a sympathetic smile. "Hungover? Meera is known to leave those in her wake miserable the next day. It's in her nature."

Ressler winces, and brings his eyes up from his joined hands resting on his lap to look at her. "9 years ago, when Anslo attacked..." he begins, Liz watches as his Adam's apple bobs. Struggling greatly with whatever he was about to say. "Looking back I can reflect, knowing now who he really was. Who he is." Liz holds her breath as she sits forward being drawn into his every word. All these years and Ressler was always tight lipped about the events of Garrick and what happened inside that box. No matter how hard she tried to pry, Ressler always brushed her off. "There is something he told me. That I think you'll benefit to hear."

"What did he tell you?" she rubs at her scar and watches as he also occupies his own hands, playing with the end of his tie. Sliding it through his fingers, over and over, staring at the motion as if it would grant him the ability to continue.

"He told me, if I have summarized anything about him. I should know that he plans on being around for the sequel. _There wasn't a body,_" his voice was soft, and quiet as if he himself needed to find comfort in his own words. "Whatever he is doing. Red's out there Liz, and he's sleeping without demons to haunt him. And I can guarantee that he doesn't want _you_ of all people to lose hope."

She traces over the bump that lay under the fabric. For a moment she thinks of telling him, and a moment later she remembers she would be compromising him. She cared little about herself, let them paint her the same colors as Red, veil them both in lies. but Ressler's life was his job, she wouldn't take that away from him.

"Thank you." she whispers.

He inclines his head, observes her face. And suddenly Liz feels like she was frying under a magnifying glass, igniting into flames under the concentrated heat of Ressler's gaze. "Are you hiding something Liz?" his eyes narrow, and the switch from open and vulnerable to FBI agent flips instantly as he inspects her. "You're rubbing at your scar, you look queasy." he points at her joined hands, and she immediately stops. "Is it Reddington?" his voice dips so low even across from him she struggled to hear him. "Did he make contact?"

She shakes her head, "No," she says simply, and not at all convincingly even to her own ears. "It's just-"

Ressler holds up a hand and stops her from carrying on with the lie. There was a silent understanding that passed between them. "The bastard sure would be handy right about now?" he jokes leaning across the two desks to hand her the files. Liz herself appears to find herself smiling, a true genuine smile for the first time in a long time.

* * *

_When the sedation wore off her entire body awoke with tiny shocks. Pulses of electrical energy raging a course through her veins, it hurt in an unexplainable way. She felt every pull of her flesh as it moved against bone. Every blink of her eye as the lashes touched skin, could feel every hair in their follicles. Liz had this complete awareness of her body. _

_Her awareness of time however was the complete opposite, she wasn't sure if minutes, hours, or days have passed since they have taken her. And where she is, she couldn't even begin to know. It was deadly silent. It was dark, so dark that Liz couldn't tell the difference from eyes wide open or them being shut. _

_She tries to move her hands, but finds that they are restricted and the pain from moving them against their restraints insured that she wouldn't try moving again. At least until the effects of the shot wore off. She wasn't even sure she could tolerate the pain of standing, if a simple brushing of fabric on her skin felt like acid on an open wound. What would bearing weight on unsettled knees feel like?_

_With nothing but her thoughts and darkness Liz begins to build images in her mind. Replacing the darkness with warm sunshine, slipping away to summers with her father. When they would travel to Myrtle Beach for the last week before she had to return to college. She could almost feel the warmth of the sand that caressed her bare legs. The stickiness of humidity on her skin, a light taste of salt in the air as they sat and read books together by the ocean. If she tried hard enough Liz could just make out the lulling sounds of waves in the distance. Breaking and licking at the sand before retreating once more. _

_Liz grins as Sam's laugh fills the space around her, she inhales and could smell the outdoor like smell he always had clinging to him. But the images quickly blur and transform to Red inside the Cube. Like she was being paraded in front of him all over again. Whatever comfort she created slithering away from her._

_Liz vividly sees him clench his jaw when he realizes it was her being dragged before him. The panic in his eyes before he rushed over to Ressler to coax the code from him. Followed by that smile he offered to her in reassurance that everything would be fine, before the box creaked open. Sparing her life, and trading it for his own. She recalls that deep fear for him that cut through her, splitting her at the center. Remembers how she couldn't steer her eyes away from him as the woman prodded around his neck for the chip. Even with two fingers deep in his flesh his only thoughts were her safety. _

_All those feelings his self sacrifice seemed to bring to the surface. It was that breath of air that burst through and blew her lines in the sand away, that he fondly spoke of. A moment when change materialized. When it became clear to Liz that she needed Red as much as he needed her; and that Red needing her not only made him vulnerable, but it made her just as vulnerable as him. She wasn't ready to lose him. The realization sparking her compulsive search for him._

_She permits herself to wonder if he is frantically looking for her now, as she did when he was taken. She wonders if that same dread of losing her captivated his every thought; and his every action in his search as the time slipped through his fingers. As the thought of losing him plagued her, and wilted her like a dried rose. A single, delicate touch could have shattered her entire existence. _

_Wonders if images of her emanate torture because of her sacrifice flooded his mind, blinding his vision, as his did hers. If the blame and guilt weighed heavily upon him like it sat upon her, crushing her lungs slowly but effectively suffocating her, until it was an actual task just to breathe. _

_That lasted until a phone call, and the sound of his voice. That rushed all the air back inside, and allowed peace to settle. _

_Darkness surrounds her once more as another thought forms, and scurries away. _

_Will he blame himself and mourn me as he did Luli... _

_There is a click to her right, a shifting of steel on steel that breaks her from further ruminations. _

_The door breaks open with a flooding of blinding light that is quickly filled with the silhouette of a man. But it is all Liz can make out through her squinted eyes. _

_Her gut twisting, as her heart skipped several beats. _

_The game was about to begin._

* * *

_AN: I want to thank everyone who has added this to their Favorites and Follows. And all of you who have taken the time to review, I would send you all hugs if I could. I believe I have sent PMs to those of you that I could. But if I have missed you, know that your opinions matter and they mean a great deal to me. _

_ShockAndAwe - You're right, that painting in Red's bedroom is Magritte's "Ceci n'est pas une pipe." =)_

_I know this chapter is more filler than a plot advancer. I cut it in half because if I left it as it were, it would have been a massive chapter. Next chapter is one of my favorites, so I hope you stick around. As always, mistakes are mine and if you feel inclined don't be shy, leave a review. _

_With love,_

_- Red Herring_


	4. I'm Miles From Where You Are

Disclaimer on the first chapter...

* * *

Fifteen hours fall away quickly without anything happening. But then out of thin air, Aram stumbles upon something that breaks open the entire case. The _slip up_ made by the Death Adder was nothing short of suspicious to Liz. It was almost like a divine miracle, and deep within her she couldn't shake the feeling Red had some involvement. That he somehow slipped the information into the system for Aram to find. Masking it in an untraceable way that even the computer tech genius would be unaware of. Allowing Aram the credit of saving the day_, _and whatever else benefit Red received from it. She skips out on the plane to Rome and the sting operation.

The burden of the case lifted, allowed her to run home and focus on her own pressing matters. The time between the post office and arriving at Hempstead's was a fuzzy memory. The entire length of her travels, she ranked her brain for what a cork could symbolize, and what it was meant to tell her.

She moves into the library and whips out her laptop, quickly searches the words _Hidden messages in wine corks. _Though it only grants her a heap of filler sites that had nothing to do with her inquiries, dozens of links to subliminal messages in well known consumer products, and government conspiracies popped up more than anything else.

She lets out an exasperated groan, and gazes at the cork on the table where it sat taunting her. Then back at her computer screen, continuing her search with different variations of the same inquiry. She had just about given up entirely when she stumbles upon a website dedicated to early quasi-concealment devices. Liz scrolled through numerous articles, and it wasn't until she got down to the 20th century, or more particularly World War II and the Golden Age of Espionage era that she really gained a footing.

In her search for answers she grew seemingly fascinated in the interesting way spies passed messages to one another. Harboring a new appreciation for the creativeness they had; considering how easy it is to pass messages along now. Liz continued scrolling, and reading until she fell upon images. Her scrolling pulsation picking up as she filtered through images of shoes, pipes, coins, game boards, compasses, pens, shaving cream canisters, and right below a combustible notebook it was right there.

A Cork.

It had a hollowed middle, and all you simply had to do was slide the correct part downward to reveal it. _The downward swirls_... the answer was right there all along, she shakes her head and snatches the cork from it's position on the table. Using her nail she applies pressure onto the wording, in the center of the downward swirls and tries to calm herself as it gives and pulls away smoothly. Her hands were trembling as the rolled parchment is exposed to her.

She picks at the small paper and unravels it. The red scrawl was uniquely his, she knew it as well as her own. This was real. She feels her stomach clench, twisting into knots as a wetness begins to gather in her eyes. She traces over the words that read _Mr. William Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies. It's a first folio, so do be mindful Lizzie._ She rolls the paper, and places it back inside its compartment and closes the cork once more.

Standing Liz looks at the bookcase, it was the most unorganized thing in the entire house. There was no code in which the books were ordered on the shelf, so finding Shakespeare's did take a good amount of time. When she finally stumbles upon it, she runs her finger over the worn dark brown leather, finger dancing over the inscribed _Shakespeare _and then the other barely legible letters that shaped a _C, H, & T_. She carefully removes it from it's place, and could already smell the old musty smell it maintained. It was heavier than she expected it to be. She hugs it to her chest as she looks over at the desk.

Unceremoniously Liz swipes all the papers that scattered the table onto the floor, clearing a space. She lays the book flat and carefully turns through the rag paper his manuscript was printed on. Page by page she turns, not quite sure if she is meant to actually read it, or if he slipped something between two pages. Her gut told her it were the latter, so slowly and very carefully she worked her way through the book. When she reaches _Much Ado About Nothing_ she pauses and does take the time to read it. She ponders how much Red had to shell out to have this in his possession, considering how well preserved it were.

Liz settles down in the seat as she reads through. It's been a long time since she sat and read anything that didn't pertain to work or the occasional celebrity gossip she read to pass the time.

And Liz did have a particularly weak spot for Shakespeare.

* * *

_She's pulled from the room roughly, and is then dragged through a long hallway. Her feet weren't complaint in the slightest, they might as well have been cemented. Liz tries to absorb her surroundings, but it was all so very bleak. Gazing down at her hands that were bound tightly, she could already make out a deep bruising. There was no escaping these thick cuffs, it would be a reckless attempt which definitely wouldn't end in her favor. _

_She breathes out a deep exhale. Deciding that she wouldn't fight, she would ride this out until an opportune moment presented itself. _

_Liz looks to the man that was pushing her forward, he was seemingly young, couldn't be more than 27 with comely features, deep brown eyes, and mucky brown hair that fell over his left eye. Concealing a scar, that she could just see peeking out as he shook his head and nudged her. "Where are you taking me?" she questions stumbling forward when he pushes her too hard in an attempt to force her forward. He doesn't answer her, his face doesn't even budge from it's neutral position. _

_He stops at a door and shoves her against it, her cheek slapping hard against the metal. He reaches at her waist and slides the bar, all while holding her steadily in place. "I won't try anything-" she assures, "There would be no point..." Liz gouges further. Trying to break him, trying to get him to talk. But nothing. Not a grunt, not a hiss, not even a single word telling her to be quiet. _

_So she talks about herself, and he continues to push her through darker areas. Into long hallways, with lights overhead that flickered, and occasionally buzzed creating the only atmosphere around them. They walked for what felt like two miles, winding through halls and doors. _

_Liz makes the deduction that they were underground. The longer they walked the more it reminded her of the bunker Wujing created. "How far underground are we?" she turns her shoulder to gaze at him, but his face never changed to incline if her theory was correct, it was perfectly stoic. It was like all his facial muscles have died. _

_He pauses, and tugs at the back of her shirt halting her movements. Her brow bunches together as she turns to meet him, "What?" she questions as he holds out his hand pointing to the door. "Do you want me to go in there?" he blinks. "If you want me to go in there, you're going to have to help me out." Liz holds her hands out in front of her. His arm drops, and he turns his back to her as he pulled the bar across. _

_She could wrap her arms around his neck, she could choke him. _

_She thinks, but she does not act. She watches, watches as he pries the door open and steps out of the light that descended from the room. He steps back, and gives her sleeve a tug, "You must be a real joy at social gatherings." she mutters and steps inside the awaiting room. _

_She gulps when she looks around the sterile room, the smell of cleaning products still suspending heavily in the air. It was set like an operation room, with it's table in the center and medical equipment that cluttered the corners. There was a heart monitor beside the table, a hanging blood bag along with a bag of clear fluid, and a set of instruments that ranged from blades to other intimidating looking things. Liz didn't have a clue what their purpose was for in the medical field; but she could deduce it wouldn't be a pleasurable experience when they are used for corruption instead of miracles. Her entire body grows cold as the blood pools into her legs, readying for flight. _

_She swallows down the fear that builds in the backing of her throat, begins whispering a silent prayer as she moves forward. _

_She doesn't give them the satisfaction of forcing her onto the table. She strides over without a faltering step and hops onto it like a kid would in an exam room, swinging her legs back and forth. If they wanted to see fear, she wasn't going to grant them it. If they were going to attempt to break her walls, Liz would just rebuild better models in their stead. Her mind was set, as she thought of her team, and of Red. She would remain strong, he would come for her. She just had to hold out and grant him time._

_Liz pulls her feet up, and lays flat against the chilled metal. Stares up into the empty ceiling, inhales and exhales evenly as she awaits their next move. Her eyes slip closed as she hears another door open, this one from the furthest end of the room. Listens to the clicking that follows every foot fall, until he is directly before her. _

"_You're a fool Lizzie," She cringes hearing him mention her nickname. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, and a building rage igniting deep within her. The same rage she felt all those years ago the first time Red addressed her as such. "Brave, but a fool nevertheless." _

_When her eyes do find themselves open, he's directly above her. His lips split into a malicious smile, eyes nearly black in the shadows that covered his face. "Since you are being so compliant, why don't you lift your hands above your head." when Liz doesn't move he begins to click his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tsking her. He roughly grabs her by her joined hands and raises them above her head. Hooking her to some latch, a heavy click echos off the walls._

"_I'm not afraid of you." she spits out, turning her head to watch him lift one of the scalpels. _

"_This Lizzie, is a number 10," his finger skirts down the edge of the blade, unmoved by her statement. "It has a curved cutting edge," she watches as he punctuates his words by demonstration, tracing the outline. "The back of it is dull-" he steps closer, "Generally number 10s are used for small incisions in the skin or muscle. The other stuff on the table though, if we get to that..." he lightly caresses her cheek with the edgeless back of the blade while letting out a low whistle."You won't want to get to the other stuff Lizzie." he sighs her name out like a whispered prayer. "This is the way we are going to play, I'm going to ask you questions-"_

_"And if I tell you what you want to hear, you won't show me what you plan on doing with that blade." she finishes for him. "Any other cliché you wish to fill?" _

_His laugh vibrates into her skin. His face so close to her own as he bends further and places a chaste kiss to her forehead. _

_Liz doesn't flinch. _

"_Shall we begin then?"_

* * *

_Good thing I uploaded this last night, I got called into work and my day is shot completely. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter, No Beta, as always reviews are welcome._

_With love,_

_- Red Herring_


	5. I Lay Down On The Cold Ground

Disclaimer can be found on the first chapter. Still only borrowing the characters, and as you can see I am selfishly keeping Red for myself.

_Warning : Mild torture takes place in this chapter._

* * *

She's nearly half way through the manuscripts, when she turns the page onto _The Taming of the Shew_. Letting out a sleep filled yawn she gazes at her phone, pressing the home button and viewing the time. It was almost 4:30 AM and her body was slowly declining into delirium, her eyes were blurry from staring at words for too long, her legs long gone into a numb oblivion from lack of use. She reclines back and rubs circles at her temples, then slowly rubs the sleep from her eyes.

Liz pulls forward and rests her head onto her forearm. Staring at the book sideways as she lifted the heavy pages one by one, unyielding in her pursuit. But sleep was fast approaching. The hypnotizing and redundant task was rapidly handicapping her. Dulling her brain as it set out to shutting down.

She doesn't remember nodding off, but she must have because next thing she knows. She is waking to rays of light filtering in through the sheer curtains, cloaking the room in a soft amber warmth. With Hudson nuzzling his head into her leg, nipping lightly at the fabric of her pants. She shoos him away gently, begging him to give her a few more minutes. But her hardheaded dog just kept persisting and persisting until eventually Liz forced herself awake.

She lets out a yawn, and stretches her back and arms. Her neck was sore, and her back was screaming in agony from sleeping in a hunched position. "Come on," she looks down to her companion. "A walk may do us both some good."

His tail starts to whip back and forth, understanding quite well the meaning of walk. Glances at the book, and rolls her eyes. Quickly growing impatient with this wild goose chase Red dropped her in the middle of. Perhaps a walk to clear her head would do her some good indeed.

The morning chill greets her like an old friend she hasn't seen in a while, filling her lungs with cool fresh air. Chasing the sleep away, and awakening her senses. She gets to enjoy it for a hair of a moment before Hudson is pulling her off the steps and onto the sidewalk. Her over eager dog always seemed to regress in age whenever she granted him these little walks. They proceed to the dog park that was about a mile and a half away from Hempstead's home. Liz unhooks the lead from Hudson. Observes as he bounds around the grass and dirt sniffing the fence for other scents. She takes a seat on the bench and lets her dog roam freely, he wasn't one to stray too far.

She stares up at the overcast sky, feeling the tinge of moisture in the air. Turning her legs to the edge, Liz begins lowering back until she was laying flat on the dew covered bench slipping away into her own thoughts.

When her phone beeps from the thirty minute alarm she set, it pulls her out from deep within herself. She turns her head on the bench - glancing around at the windswept grass that swayed and shook in the breeze. The park now apparently empty "Hudson?" Liz calls jumping up from the bench, whistling loudly.

She couldn't locate him.

Liz runs around the large area in a frenzy, then glances at the tall grass beyond the fenced domain. When she sees the hole dug in the soft dirt that allowed freedom her heart fell out from her chest. She scales the fence in a matter of seconds, and runs straight into the field. Swinging her arms through the grass that was at least a few inches higher than her natural height. "Hudson!" she screams now frantic. "Hudson... Please come out." she begs, stepping over a thick rotting log.

She stills and tries to listen for his wild movements. But all she hears is muteness and her own erratic heartbeat. Liz feels herself growing weak, a cold sweat starts to form upon her brow. Her breathing increases until it's just shallow gasps and desperate attempts to fill her lungs. She begins feeling far away from herself as she grows dizzy.

Liz's body wanted to descend, it wanted her on the soft dirt and she finds herself lowering to her hands and knees to obey. She didn't know if she was going to vomit or if she was about to faint.

"Hudson," she calls weakly. "You can't leave me, you're all I have left."

* * *

_The Adversary turns the heart monitor on and hooks her up to the machinery. The way he moves seemed to be methodical, and well practiced. "Let's start simple, to develop a nice baseline," he purses his lips, as her heart rate instinctively picks up speed. "Relax." _

_She laughs, because it's a ridiculous question to ask of a person in this situation. Befuddling the man before her, his head tilting to the side as he regarded her. "Relax?" she probes at him her voice masked in anger, brimming with fear. "You're telling a person strapped to an operation table, at the mercy of a known monster to relax? Would you just tell a person dying of starvation to quit being hungry?" she squirms and shoots a piercing glare at him. _

"_I would just kill them," He grins while shaking his head lightly, appearing to be amused by her. "And, it would be a gift." _

_Liz huffs in disbelief. "Feeding them, could equally resolve the situation. But how could I ever imagine someone like you acting humane." _

_"The fact that you or anyone else for the matter doesn't see that as the more humane thing to do is worrisome to me Lizzie." his eyes soften as he peers down at her, this new feature of him that replaced cold and calculating was far more frightening. Liz feels a shiver run down the length of her spine as her palms begin to sweat. "Feed them, and in that moment they are full. Though they'll starve once more. Death is a permanent solution. Far less suffering." _

"_That's not the way the world works," she offers faintly. "that's not what is morally right." _

"_What is right? What is wrong?" he ponders, distracted by his own question. "You only believe it is right, because you are told that it is." silence stretches over them. _

_Thirty seconds. Two minutes. _

_Her heartbeat in the monitor steadying. A gentle pulsation against the silence. His distraction granting him the baseline he desired. Without her even realizing it._

"_Do you have a dog?" _

"_Yes." she answers meekly. _

"_Are you an FBI Agent?" His eyes never leave hers as he spits out the questions. The scalpel's tip tracing around her palm, right near her scar. In a light almost playful manner._

"_Yes." _

_After a series of mundane questions, he changes course, and Liz mentally prepares for the new series of questions she knows is to come. "Did you marry a spy?" He giggles in an inappropriate manner, it's light, childlike but mostly it's alarming. _

"_Yes-" Tom's betrayal seemed to still hold an affect on her because her heartbeat changes ever so slightly. "Was he one of yours?" _

"_I ask the questions, until I deem you allowed to inquire your own." He traces the scalpel at her forearm. "But... in a way yes. He was part of a corporation I dipped my toes in. You always have to watch the small ponds Lizzie, the tiny fish get cocky. Think they can overturn the sharks." he applies a soft pressure. Not enough to pierce her skin, but enough to warn her he could. _

"_Where is Red?" the blade glides up, and then down until it stops at her inner arm._

_"I don't know," they both look at the monitor together when her heart rate grows erratic. "I have ideas where he may be, but I don't know..." she shifts in nervous expectancy._

"_I don't believe you Lizzie." a frown tugs at his lips that almost, very nearly appears genuine. "Sorry." the incisions he makes are short, deep lesions all bordering and boxing in a smaller area. She bites hard at her lip, and winces. The beating emerging from the machine, the only scream penetrating the room. He lightly twirls the tip around her brachial artery in warning. "Nick this guy, and you'll bleed out." _

"_I am aware." her words come out in short bursts as she fights through the burning his incisions created, the deep sting of a new wound. She watches as the blood slowly pours from the openings that would surely need stitches._

"_Have you ever killed a man... or woman? I'm an equal opportunist." He shrugs his shoulder, the tip of his weapon scraping upward. Then it gets to her clavicle and he pauses. _

"_Yes." _

"_How did you feel after the very first time?" The body warmed instrument smeared her own blood across the expanse of her throat. He presses the tip into her carotid, she flinches as her eyes pinch shut. Liz sees a quick flash of Red in the hotel room form behind her eyelids, and internally scolds herself. "Guilt?" she nods and finds it harder to breathe. Every time she did it pressed the tip just slightly further into the skin. "It got easier over the years, didn't it?" _

"_It's my job, I do what I have to do. That's the reasoning we're meant to use, isn't it?" The words escape laboriously as she stares at him, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. "How come that guy doesn't talk?" she turns her head just slightly in the direction of the man who brought her here, away from the blades pressure. Trying desperately to drag time. _

"_I... cut out his tongue." The Adversary answers. As he spoke his eyes drifted away into the memory. "That's a rather long story. But it was well deserved." _

"_In your opinion? Or his?" _

_Her eyes go wide when he applies an even firmer pressure into her carotid. He pierces through just slightly, Liz could feel the prickle of blood begin to slide down. "My opinion is always the only one that matters Lizzie." _

* * *

_AN: Sorry this took so long to be updated, work and all that jazz. Today is a rarity, a day off! I got to sleep in for the first time in weeks. Don't be too angry with me about Hudson... __We're in the home stretch, there are only 3 more chapters and a possible epilogue... so things will definitely be progressing quicker in the next update. It'll be a big one._

_As always mistakes are mine. Reviews make me smile, so don't be shy. __Next chapter will come Friday or Saturday, Thanks for sticking with me :)_

_- Red Herring_


	6. Pray That Something Picks Me Up

Disclaimer can be found in chapter one...

* * *

In the mist of her panic attack. As she lay in a fetal position on the mushy ground, she hears a subtle shuffling in the spacing. Her ears hone into it, and she promptly places a hand onto the floor to aid herself into an upright position. "Hudson," she tremulously calls out. Liz could just make out the shifting and crunching of grass. The trace of something moving closer, and closer.

She whistles, and calls his name once more.

When the grass splits and she sees her dog covered in dirt and spurs. A tranquility settles over her - instantly her body decompresses, "You little jerk," she expels breathlessly as he moves over to her, pressing his head into her shoulder. Her fingers pick at the spurs removing them gently. "Don't you ever do that to me again." she whispers against his ear, hugging herself to him. "Never again."

When they return home from getting Hudson groomed, Liz neglects the book. Heads straight for the bedroom, and locks herself inside. Pulling the curtains closed, sealing out all existing light. She slips beneath the covers and drowns out the world around her.

When she awakes several hours later, she heads out. She needed to recollect her emotions before she proceeded any further. While experiencing a panic attack over the thought of losing Hudson was understandable. It only triggered thoughts of a not so distant time when their occurrence was something Liz grew to consider a normalcy.

The nightmares, everything she went through in these last five years - an anger swells in the pit of her stomach. He was fine the entire time, and he left her to suffer without knowing the truth for five damn years. To mourn him -

Liz slams her palm onto the steering wheel of her car and accelerates off toward Georgetown. What was possibly worst of all, now he thinks he can just storm right in like he once did before? Liz huffs. "I'm going to kill him," She mumbles aloud, her voice flat and detached as she stared into awaiting traffic. "When I see him - I'm going to kill him."

It takes hours before she is level-headed enough to return back to Hempstead's home. When she finally does there is no gentle approach she takes to her searching through the pages. She was sick and tired of allowing Red to lead this dance, and so help him if she is directed to another clue...

She takes a seat and slides the book closer to herself. Lifts the pages into her hand and allows them to fall quickly, the sound of their shuffling flutters through the room. She shakes her head, as she touches the folded paper sitting between the last page of _The Taming of The Shrew _and the beginning of _All's Well That End's Well_. If she never stopped she would have ran straight into it, and more importantly she wouldn't have taken Hudson for the walk.

She lets out a shaky breath as she lifts the paper, the movement causing a golden key to fall from it. She left it on the open pages of the book as she continued to unfold the flaps. _Alpine Storage - Northeast Vienna VA, Outdoor locker 27_

"You son of a bitch." she throws her head back, and growls in an animalistic manner. Stomping her feet into the polished wood flooring, the chair falling back slightly as she thrashed in her immature tantrum.

* * *

Her body was restless as she lay in bed that night.

When sleep deserted her, Liz spent hours staring up at the shadows being cast in through the window as the sun arose. The treeline made the ceiling look like crooked teeth. She views as it sways, a light wind outside causing the illusion of a man devouring some unidentified object. It was as horrifying as it was equally captivating.

She shuffles out of bed when the shadows dissipated, as the birds chirped their morning songs colorfully. She takes a long shower to waste time, nibbles on toast and obsessively checks the Grandfather Clock. Waiting until it was a reasonable hour to head out to Vienna. Liz contemplated heading over before the place opened, getting in and out before anyone could really notice. But curiosity disrupted that plan, if she was patient she could get a solid idea of a time frame. See how long Red had this little game of his planned out.

When it was close enough to 10, she hastily grabs her coat from the hook and rushes out the door. She travels through the tunnel, and down the barren highway. Taking exit 46A which led her straight into the town of Vienna. She continues down residential areas and down a long strip of shopping plazas. She winds down another residential area, and continues for a good five minutes before she reaches another length of shopping areas, passes a mom and pop shop, and then finds the storage area. Her GPS congratulating her on her arrival, her stomach twisting into knots as she stared at the pale blue building, and yellow rows of storage lockers.

She circles around the outside lockers and finds number 27 relatively quick. It was easy to spot, it had the privacy Red would prefer as it was the furthest from the view of the street. The last one on the row, hidden under the heavy shading of a large tree. If you pulled in at the proper angle, no one would be able to see what you were doing in there. She shifts into park, and kills the engine of her car. Stares at the metal doors of the locker for a prolonged stretch of minutes before she opens her door and approaches yet another hurdle.

She inserts the key, and holds a breath as the lock falls away. She pulls the steel latch, and the screeching of steel upon steel sends a tremor from her hand down the length of her body. Her eyes pinch tight - the sound triggering an unwanted memory, Liz cringes and pushes past it. Sliding her palms under the grooves of the door and pushing it upward with quite an effort. Natural light provides a clear view of the apparently empty space.

Her eyes do a quick scan, and a frightening feeling forms that perhaps she was too late. Until her eyes land on the left corner of the back wall that had a single maple leaf in front of it. She takes a step further into the space, and kneels down her knee popping in the moment. Hovering over the leaf casting it in her shadow she tries to lift it but finds it could not be moved.

There was evidence of other foliage that have long since wilted and turned to ash, but this one remained pristine. Her finger traces the edges, then down to the stem. It was pointing at a space on the wall - her stomach doing a somersault as her knees fell to the ground. The scraping of concrete through the thin material of her yoga pants troubles at her knees, but she pays little mind to it. Her palms gliding around the wall knocking lightly, it sounded hollow. She falls back on her bottom and uses her boot to kick at the area. The wall gives with little force, decreasing into a heap of chunky rubble. She blindly reaches inside and her fingers touch upon a square object. Using the light of her phone she glances inside the hole, and pulls the object from the hidden compartment.

She can't help the smirk that forms as it comes into view. A short uneasy laugh escapes her as she looks at the box, and recording device taped to the plain smooth top. The wood was dark, the sides beautifully engraved of circles within circles that looked like tiny cogs. When she realized it was upside she turns it over and exposes the true top which was hand painted. A breathtaking image of a large tree, bloomed with tiny white flowers.

The tree was split into a Y shape as a lightning bolt perforated through it. She turns her wrist and compares her scar to the shape of the tree. While the two were similar, there was something different about the shape of tree. Something more reformed, like it was a fork in the road instead of a elusive portrayal of her scar.

Unlike the cork, she knew very well the mechanics of a Japanese Puzzle box. Twisting the box back to the bottom. Liz uses her short nails to peel the tape, gripping the recorder in her hand. She struggled to press play, she simply held it tightly. _I'll wait, I can't hear his voice before I talk with the manager._ She nods to herself and slips it into her coat pocket.

Liz locks the storage locker and tosses the box onto the passenger seat before turning the car around, heading for the front of the building.

The inside of the small room smelt of onions and old hoagies. It was mostly bare, no additional seating beside the seat the boy occupied behind the counter that separated the room in half. The teenage boy that sat behind the counter nose deep in his cellphone didn't even acknowledge her presence. The box fan rattling behind him, blowing lukewarm air onto his back and the stench of the onions into her nostrils.

Liz clears her throat and his bright blue eyes lift for a moment before they fall back onto his phone. "Did you need help?" he questions snidely.

Liz rolls her eyes and bites back a sarcastic remark. "I have a question about a locker," his eyes lift as he awaits her question. "It recently came into my possession, and I just want to know how long until I am meant to make a payment."

"What number is it?" he slides his chair from one end to the other where a computer sat idling. He wiggles the mouse around until the screen lights up.

"It's an outside locker, number 27," Liz rests her elbows onto the counter that divided them, and observes as he typed away. "Would you also be able to tell me when it was first leased?"

"Yup," he replies scrolling down a long list, completely disinterested. "It's been paid until-" his eyes widen just slightly "Indefinitely."

"When was it leased?" her heart was drumming rapidly.

"Looks like-" He pauses as he scrolls "9 years ago." he turns his head and looks at her. "Are you alright? You're looking very pale..."

"I'm fine." her voice quivers as she turns on her heel and walks out the door into the clean crisp air of the outdoors. She rushes to her car and braces her hands onto the roof.

_Inhale... exhale..._

"It was all a plan," she whispers to herself, trying to stop the onslaught of another panic attack from emerging. "It was all a plan..." her body shakes, her knees grow weak as her grip against the car frame struggles to find purchase on the curves.

* * *

_Her memory was faulty as morphine pumped through her veins. She remembers the start of the day, she remembers being suspended by her arms, but afterward everything was a fuzzy mess. Her broken and bruised body was in a sort of unbalanced bliss while the stuff dulled the Adversary's proceedings. _

_He was running out of things to do that wouldn't cause deadly injury. Her ribs were cracked; some broken completely from when he added the pressure of his knees to their already brittle state. The broken bones, the hot and cold showers, lack of food... all of that was tolerable. _

_It was the electrocution and water boarding that Lizzie dreaded. She couldn't take much more of that. Each time it happened she wished it would be the last, then in true moments of weakness she prayed she wouldn't be revived. _

_That the lion would grow sick of playing with his food, and just put her out of her misery. Though, It's all stopped at the moment, as she was alone in the room. Too weak to function, her throat raw from screaming for hours on end. _

"_Lizzie-" she hears her name and turns her head in the direction of the sound. _

"_Red?" she questions as the figure burst through rays of transparent light. But it was like she was looking at the world through the end of a narrow straw, she squinted harder at his moving outline, trying to make out his distinct features._

"_You must be high as a kite," Liz shifts like a startled deer, as the hunter breaks a branch too loudly making his true presence announced. The voice wrong. Everything was wrong. She blinks wildly. "I'm growing bored waiting for him Lizzie." _

"_He's going to kill you." she wriggles against the restraints. Her legs pulling up and down fidgety, her anxiety level kept climbing at an unsettling pace. _

"_He'll try," The Adversary wheels a chair up beside her. "And I will equally try to end his life. This has decades of tension bound very tightly. The eruption is going to be... exhilarating." he hums through the word, as he began upping the dosage of her morphine. "How's that?" the tone of his voice was borderline caring. But it was another face he wore. When he wasn't attacking her, he tried this tender approach. _

_Good Cop, Bad Cop, and Worst Cop, all depending on the time of day. Or depending on his mood whenever Red made a move on him that was unexpected. There was nothing to quell his rage then. _

_She whimpers, "I don't... please just don't-" Cowering, and afraid of what was to come, she begins to shake. The rattling of the chains around her ankles clinking against the table. _

"_What do you know of me Lizzie?" he questions cutting her off, his finger ghosting down her face, sweeping hair off her eyes. "What has he told you of me?" _

"_Nothing besides basic information. Things you've done-" she answers quickly. "Everything with Red is vague, there are never real answers to questions, only more questions." _

_He unlatches her arms and gently pulls them down. Touching the scar on her palm. The pain in the movement induces her to groan loudly. "Did Raymond ever talk to you about the night you received the branding on your wrist Elizabeth?" _

_She snaps her head toward him, a profound fear rising at the inclination Red was involved. "No." he spoke softly, reading her like an open book as his finger traces the raised edges of her scar. The gesture that normally brought her comfort, had an ill reaction flow through her. She felt bile rise in her throat as he continued his feather light petting. _

_Tarnishing the comfort that normally brought her solace quickly."Red had nothing to do with it, in fact perhaps a thanking is in order. He did save your life that night," the Adversary's eyebrows pull together as his eyes narrow intently on her."You really don't remember a thing?" she can't help but shake her head in response._

"_Curious," he mumbles to himself more than anyone else, stopping his touch and pulling away. Blood pumps furiously down into her arms, bringing them back to life. More pain to tolerate. "I would have assumed he would have at least told you that. Could have gained him a bit of trust on your end, and some mild understanding." _

"_I do trust him," she responds back darkly, conviction set into her words as she glared at him. "If I didn't I wouldn't have surrendered myself." _

"_You trust him- now." The Adversary points out. Examining the stitches he's placed over her open wounds along her ribs. He then reaches over to the table and grabs it by the legs dragging it to himself. The wheels screeching in protest, "But look at how long that took you. You know, I never understood his approach of a slow burn. Then again, I was always the impulsive one in the group." he fiddles in the supplies, and peels back the gauze that covers a nastier gash above her hip bone._

"_Then why don't you tell me the things he refuses to?" She sounds weak, and genuinely desperate as Liz stares openly at him. Pleading him with her now softened eyes. _

"_It's not my story to tell you," The Adversary's smile is uneasy. "Although it is what twined us all together isn't it?" he begins to laugh and it startles her, makes her shift uncomfortably away from his hands. But he holds her steady at the hips."I am letting too much go, far too quickly. We should save all this for Reddington's arrival." He then prods at the raw area, wiping away the now crusted blood. Silence laid it's dense body over top the room. Creating an uncomfortable tension around herself and this tepid man. _

_He kept gazing into her eyes, and then back into his cleaning. His mouth opening and closing as he mumbled incoherent things to himself. Then he spoke as he lost control of his inner musings. They broke through his fourth wall with a violent force. The voice that emerges is one she doesn't recognize and she's been exposed to several. "If you make it out of this Lizzie, the rain will no longer be pleasurable for you. You'll be able to feel it before it comes to be. You'll have so many more scars to bear. Bone damage..." he goes silent as he contemplated his next set of words. "Would you like me to grant you a gentle mercy? I could up your morphine, you won't even feel a thing..." _

_She doesn't grant him an answer, her eyes widen in shock. "I have you in my possession. Red is searching for us, quite wildly. So you dying now instead of later." another pause, another second to measure if he truly wanted to say what he was about to. "It really wouldn't matter. I had bigger plans on how I can use you against him. But I am feeling generous and the effect would all be the same. Far as he is concerned you're alive." He lets out a heavy exhale after he finishes his ramblings. At a sudden war with himself "You wouldn't have to suffer so, grievously."_

"_Is this suppose to make me think of you differently? Because you are offering me a peaceful way out?" He doesn't say anything as he continues to tend to her. "I've learned rather quickly, that betting on Red is the wisest way to go. I'll take my chances." _

_He shrugs a unburdened shoulder. "Suit yourself." _

_He continues cleaning open wounds, Liz becoming drowsy from the added morphine beginning to kick in. She grows enwrapped in the tune he faintly hums, the song sounding vaguely familiar. It attached itself to a lost strain of memory. One locked tightly within herself, from a past she worked hard to repress as a child. Of nightmares that woke her with screams in the night, until Sam fought them off. Becoming a sort of White Knight who kept the flames at bay. _

_She had several questions she wished to ask him, but the repercussion of upsetting his fragile temper outweighed her need to fill that void. So she remained still. Her drooped eyes focused on his every movement. _

_He looks at her, and clenches his jaw before turning his attention back to his task at hand. His body language suggested he was unstable, especially the way he fiddled around the basket of first-aid. _

_Or perhaps she was seeing things... _

"_I killed his wife, and then I killed his daughter. Though not immediately-" His emotionless delivery cuts to the quick. His impassive face trained on some of the electrical burns he recently created. This burn possibly the most severe, it had deep red blotches that had vines which expanded out in branches over her sides. He rubs a different acidic smelling ointment over the raw and somewhat bubbled flesh. It stings but she's so taken aback by him cracking open that she hardly notices. She swallows around the lump that quickly inhabits her throat. "It began with you." A pulse forms in her ears, she could hear the irregular beats inside and outside of herself. _

_Liz turns her eyes away from him. Staring upward, trying to brace herself for what was to come. Knowing already it would be a rickety attempt. There was no reasonable way to prepare for this kind of confession. _

_The dominoes were stacked and ready to fall, all he had to do was push._

"_Most parents would do anything for their children, trade their lives for them. They feel every inch of pain that they suffer as if they were a joined entity. From broken bones to heartbreak. And that switch is set, the moment they enter the world... everything changes. Children are weaknesses Lizzie, the soft spot in the armor you wear. Having them gives your enemies undeniable leverage in this world I live in. When he saved you. It began a game of tit for tat that even he couldn't have anticipated. And if you have learned anything about Raymond Reddington, you may have noticed that he is always seven steps ahead. I like to take credit for that, since I was the one flaw- the one mistake he didn't foresee." _

_He smiles shrewdly as the words settle over her, sheer horror ravishing her in the realization. "Reddington assumed I wouldn't have noticed your true body not being found inside the house, that I wouldn't run DNA – because I never was a follow up kind of guy. Perhaps he figured I would just be satisfied with news coverage stating two perished found inside. It was replaced with a cadaver, your body- same height, age..." he sighs, peels back another gauze covered wound. Infection was set, she could smell the sour smell in the air and if that wasn't enough evidence she saw confirmation in his grimace. "He must have thought I wouldn't care very much - that there wouldn't be a retaliation because you were out of my life like I wanted. He did a fine job hiding you, even went so far as protecting you for years to follow."_

_She struggled to breathe, the walls she had built caving in under the now liquified foundation. The words of the Adversary like a vise, squeezing the ventricles of her heart and constricting the blood flow. If it wasn't for the monitor ringing the truth, she was sure that it stopped beating all together. There is a wave in her vision, and a sour taste gathering on her tongue. _

_She felt sick. _

_He regards her state, and continues gleefully onward. He had found a new way to torture her that didn't have fatal effects and seemed satisfied with himself. "Had I left him unpunished, how would that reflect the image I wanted to spread?" he fiddles into his medical supply, and reaches for clean gauze to cover her hip wound. "Personally, I never wanted kids. So when I decided to go rogue, and wipe my own family clean. It was an easy decision to make. But Red - he was made to be a dad. Not even just a father, that seems too detached a word for Red, he was the tender, loving, do anything for your kid dad... and she was his entire world." He mentions so heedlessly and with such a lilt in his voice that Liz's whole body tenses, a chill settling deep within her, as if all the blood drained out of her body. She sat motionless, her lungs gasping for oxygen she withheld from them. _

_He grips her chin his nails digging into her breaking her skin, forcing her to look at him. A ferocity deeply set in his eyes. "She was so very smart, his little Zoe. She tried to escape once... that didn't end well in her favor," He pauses, and blinks slowly. "And so painfully beautiful." his voice dips into a dark timbre with a thunderous rumble. Then in a snap he instantly calms, refocuses as the gentle mask falls back into place. "She had impossibly soft blonde curly hair, and these large green orbs for eyes that glistened like light upon a precious stone. She looked like him, a lot actually. I think she played the piano- there was one in his house. She was a talented kid I wouldn't be surprised if she played. Very lively, eager to learn and to please." _

_He continues rambling about Red's daughter and the random information sticks to her, she shakes her head against his hold and tries miserably to tune him out. Squeezing her eyes shut so she couldn't see him, he leaned into her ear and softly spoke forcing her to hear. "The way she danced with tiny nimble feet it was captivating, Zoe moved with grace- she had the lead in Swan Lake... It was her last performance for the company sometime in March, I really don't remember. I just remember watching him sit there with his wife and I finally knew how to repay him back in kind. So I waited, and waited- then Christmas Eve rolled around and he was scheduled to come home... The entire scene I had painted in their blood- but left no bodies. I wanted it to be ambiguous- were they, weren't they-" He inhales deeply, and on the exhale came the words Liz couldn't stomach to hear. "I allowed him to think for a long while there was a grain of hope- and he still doesn't know, not truly-" _

"_Stop." Liz chokes out, a tear sliding down her cheek. She bites down onto her lip and turns out of his grip, which he surprisingly allows. A heavy guilt lays its cornerstone, settles deep in the pit of her stomach. A guilt she will now carry like the rest of the scars she'll bear. Like the last name she kept to serve as a constant reminder. That nothing was ever as it seemed._

_How was she meant to look at him knowing what she did now? _

"_You're thinking of him differently? Perhaps even blaming yourself?" The laugh that emerges from him is so sinister it penetrates her and causes Liz to recoil. He lifts his hand, tapping his nail on the heart monitor that spoke of her inner distress. "I would have killed them regardless of you. And he's still a monster Lizzie. We all are, just each of us allow it to take over at different points in our lives. Some of us are born with it potent, others have it drawn out. Some hide it in their closets, others put it on display for the world to see. But we are all monsters. Even you, you let your inner monster show when you dealt with Tom. When Red and yourself tortured him for tiny bits of information, until even he was begging for relief... Or did that fall under duty as well?" _

_She can't form words. _

_Silently, Liz weeps._

* * *

**AN**: _Here is where we reach a slight dilemma... And some unfortunate news. While I know where I want to take the rest of the story and as mapped out as it is - I have officially hit a block and can't find the words to break it. I'm staring at a white blank page, and see nothing. So the next update is at this point unforeseeable. _

_As always no Beta, mistakes are mine to make. Reviews help me with the continuance, so please don't hesitate to leave me any kind of review, love or hate - my biggest fear is loss of interest and redundancy. _

_To all the guests who have left me reviews I can't reply to - know that I appreciate your opinions just as much as everyone else's. To those I haven't responded to, I will be sending messages tonight. _

_Thanks for reading. _

_- Red Herring _


	7. After I Have Traveled So Far

Disclaimer on the first chapter...

* * *

She's traveling way too fast as she bolts out of the facility. Her chest was aching and binding sorely, the hyperventilation continuing as the quaking began its war path. Liz lacked the strength to get a grip on herself when she left the parking lot of Alpine Storage, the panic attack that begun there still waiting to fully bloom. She steers down the roads, but ultimately has to pull over and allow it to take its root and sprout. Fester and fizzle down until it granted her full control over her body once more. She reclines her seat back into a laying position feeling faint and nauseous as the attack ran its course.

Her eyes shift to the box beside her and for a half second she thinks about breaking it open – _but what satisfaction would that grant you? _She hears a voice not unlike Red's speak over her shoulder; and she really hates him in this moment because even at a distance he had the dominance over the situation. Knowing Liz would obey the rules of the game because she had the discipline and patience to see this damn thing through. Nothing in their relationship was ever accelerated by taking a shortcut or cheating. It was the turtle in the race against the hare; slow moving and purposeful. So as much as she wished to just take a hammer to it's weakest spot she would refrain.

There are still little tremors traveling through her as her hand reaches deep in her pocket, her fingers wrapping around the silver device. Withdrawing it from its secure place. She turns it over to its face and makes sure the volume is maxed, takes a deep inhale to clear her head and finally presses play.

"Lizzie-" his voice ruptures through compacted fuzz, it sounded like he was in a moving vehicle with the windows down. Her lungs ache as they hitch out a short gasp. Hearing him say her name sent an entire set of new tremors to claim her. "There are plenty of questions you may have, and plenty more I may not have answers to." the recording goes silent as the fuzzy background texture dissolves. There is a sullenness to the way he's speaking, and Liz can vaguely visualize that tick in his hand. That little tell when he was experiencing inner distress. "I want you to know-" He's interrupted, there is a quiet muffling and she struggles to decipher who he was talking to.

"Know what Red?" Liz's grip tightens, disoriented by the voice she thought she never would hear again.

"There are many things I regret in life, and saving you was never one of them." His voice suddenly sounding like the cords suffered an abrasion, wearing away into a far rougher texture. "I don't fault you for the repercussions that night engraved into stone, I never did. So if you decide not to proceed further past this point... I want you to understand that most of all." Liz winces, as all of her muscles began constricting, her eyes burn as she very nearly comes completely undone from his admission. If it was meant to lift some of the guilt she carried, it was highly unsuccessful.

"As for the puzzle box. Sam would always tell me stories about how intuitive you were, how you enjoyed the complexity of challenges. He was always very proud of you Lizzie," She feels the tears begin to swell to their brim and lacked the restraint to withhold them from spilling over as he continued. "He described to me one summer about your obsession with a certain Japanese puzzle box your aunt June had in her house, that it always captivated your attention. A box with no clear openings, you just couldn't wrap your mind around it. It was a provocative enigma." He expels a short breath.

Liz was entirely enchanted by his recounting of a memory she herself held fondly. "Sam laughed through the entire tale, telling me in great detail of those frustrating weeks you spent trying to crack it open, refusing any clues or help from himself or June. When you finally succeeded you quickly pushed all the pieces back together and began once more. Listening to the clicking of the gears to fully understand the mechanics. It certainly groomed you with a set of skills that you later used for less than noble reasons-" Red's laugh extracting a broad smile from Liz as its warmth travels from the device directly into the pit of her stomach. "It's a large one, but I promise you the steps are not as intimidating. There are 14 in total, it starts on the right side. Third panel from the bottom. There are no more games after this one Lizzie." there is a click as the device fills with static.

The amount of life the sound of his voice was capable to excavate from Lizzie engulfs her. The dark shade over her world that was bolted down since their last night with the Adversary was slowly lifted, and the enriched light that was held prisoner for so long was free to expand and breathe. Before turning her car back onto the road and heading home. She skips back to the beginning and plays it once more, her muscles thawing as the deep knots that lingered for years finally begin to degenerate.

* * *

Liz works tirelessly at the Japanese puzzle box to the point where she can't focus on anything else. She starts to neglect everything in her life that didn't concern Red's game, from eating to sleeping. Leaving Hempstead's house in a heaping mess, littering it with long forgotten and untouched food. The hours were turning to days, and the days into weeks - bags set camp under her eyes as she stumbled into work each day, dragging lazy feet behind her and dozing off behind her desk. She can't even concentrate in the field, and that very nearly ends up costing Liz her life.

It draws the attention of her coworkers, who look at her with concern, offering her time off and rest. But she refuses, if she took time off now and then requested vacation time when she finally opened the box it would only complicate things further and raise more questions she couldn't afford answers to. So she begins writing down all the algorithms that brought her closer to success, a full notepad of them. She slows her pace, and slips back into the routine of wearing a placid mask at work; only allowing herself time with the puzzle box during certain hours.

She gets infuriatingly close one night, but slides a panel in the wrong direction in an amateur mistake and has to reset and begin all over again. This happens over and over – the weeks quickly blending into a month and a half and Liz has gone completely insane. Her brain eroding with each failure she faced.

* * *

She's highly intoxicated one night, sat in the middle of the living room nearing two months into trying to solve the box. The sliding of the wood, and the clicking held a sort of meditation value as her fumbling fingers messed with the pieces. Listening closely to the noise of the inside gears for that key note that confirmed it was the right move.

The thought of cutting corners still sat upon her shoulder. The little devil whispering to her sweet temptations.

She's very certain the clue Red gave her is a lie, that perhaps there are more than 14 moves and possibly it was really 41 - he's screwing with her, taunting her from afar. But then just as she's about to give up - Liz finds herself at the edge of the cliff, and all that's left is the final plunge. _Right side panel slides left, Right face pushes down, left side panel pushes inward, left face pushes down, pull panel, push face, slide panel – 16 repetitive steps_. All that was left was to either push the top or pull one more left edge panel and then push the top. She was so uncertain, but her gut swore it was her first theory.

Squinting her eyes, vexation anchoring, she pushes.

It gives way.

The noise that emits from her could not be classified as human. Hudson's head pops up from where he lay sleeping beside her startled from the loud noise; but settled back down sleepily when she stroked his head softly. Liz continues to slide the top piece exposing the contents of the box. There was money, a lot of money - three stacks with a ten-thousand dollar band wrapped around each of them. She lifts the three stacks and sets them down on the floor. Not bothering to look at the passport or the new identity inside. Her eyes focused on a paper at the bottom, Liz peels it off and turns it over "_You never were one to give up Lizzie."_ the folded top read, her nail slips between the bend and pries the pages apart. _"I assume you remember where to find my private hanger – 42.6403 N, 18.1083 E." _

"Coordinates." she hums to herself as she sets the paper, passport, money and the cork that started it all inside. Resetting the box, and attempting to open it once more. Repeating this action until she knew for sure she wouldn't forget the steps, and the time it took to open it was under two minutes.

Her mind in a race against itself the entire time, "Time to make a decision Lizzie." she mumbles aloud.

When she alerts Director Cooper she would be using her vacation days, he looks at her disbelievingly. "It's very impromptu of you Keen, is all." he shrugs when she questions his hesitancy. "In all the years you have worked here the only time you took off work for an extended period, was for the rehabilitation-" He stops mid thought suddenly uncomfortable bringing up her emotional state from five years ago. She remains silent as he busies himself with paperwork then he grumbles "Go. Take additional days if need be."

"Thank you Sir." She nods, waiting until she was beyond the closed door of his office before allowing the relief to subside. She already had Hudson placed in a kennel for the next week and a half and her bags in the trunk of her car. All Liz had to do was walk out of here and disappear.

"Liz," Ressler calls as she's just inside the elevator, she turns and faces him. "I hope the clarity you seek is worth the risk you are taking-" he speaks delicately, "Lose the car and definitely the phone. They'll track your GPS." his voice gained an edge, offering her a grim smile as he nodded and turned back to head into the Hive. Leaving her stunned with her finger hovering over the numbers of the panel.

She heads Ressler's warning, abandoning her car at the Baltimore airport. Shutting her phone down as she calls for a cab from the payphone.

* * *

The entire time in the cab that was too warm and stale Liz stares absently out of the window. Her brain was aloof, the thoughts dulled into muted whispers. There was a queasy feeling frozen in the pit of her stomach as she watched the trees blur into a long stretch of olive and forest green. Liz felt like she regressed to five years ago as the trace of yet another panic attack teased its proximity. She inhales deeply through her nose and exhales through her mouth, feeling her chest rise and fall steadily. Concentrating on the movement, recounting the lessons taught to her during the extensive therapy. Drawing the attention from the cabbie, his eyes roaming to the rear view mirror to glance at her with a worried expression.

Her hands ran up and down her thighs, the jean tingling her ghost white fingers. She stops the frantic movement and reaches for the button of the window, cringing from the noise as it screeches in its descent. She rests her head to the frame as the lukewarm wind blows across her. Liz's eyes fall shut to keep from drying out as she inhaled large intakes of it. The feeling of the attack retreating.

When Liz arrived at the private airport. There was a jet waiting in his hanger that she has never seen before. But she doesn't question it further as she approaches the man sitting outside on the bottom steps of the jet's staircase. He smiles kindly. "I didn't think you existed." an airy laugh escaping him as he stands and reaches for her luggage.

"What do you mean?" she's baffled as she gapes at him, her grip on the handle wouldn't release the luggage into his possession. It just hung awkwardly between the both of them.

The man must sense her misgiving because he releases the bag and his shoulders deflate. "I was sent here every day to wait from sunrise to sunset." His voice goes quiet, as a gloomy visage sets in his hazel eyes. "The only thing I was told to do was to wait for a woman, one who will tell me where to go. I lost hope years ago-" he frowns, running a hand through short chestnut hair looking slightly embarrassed. "I began to fantasize that it was a way of remembrance, some romantic gesture to the spirit of a memory. You know, some kind of crap only a millionaire could afford to do... That perhaps the person who hired me was going to come one day, fly off and you know," he shrugs, an uneasy smile replacing the frown. "Watch the sun set for the last time in the sky- to finally go off and rest with this _woman._" his fingers quote the word into the air as he rolls his eyes.

"You've given this a lot of thought." She sounds more in control than she felt as she looks at him, finally releasing the luggage into his possession.

"I had five years to wonder what the hell I am doing out here. You can come up with a bunch of wild theories before you just give up and romanticize it." he laughs animatedly, waving his arm toward the staircase as he bows lightly "and yet here we are-" his smile is full as he aids her onto the first stair "So where to?"

"42.6403 N, 18.1083 E_" _she says over her shoulder, mounting the first stair. About half way up her legs start to grow heavier, rebelling against the movement. Then a thought occurs to her, "Whatever message you are meant to send should the _woman_ arrive- Don't alert him." she turns when she's at the top, looking down onto him. He looks up at her bemused, "We're flying unknown, do you understand?" he nods from his step below her.

* * *

_He doesn't come to see her or subject her to any more forms of torture after his confession about the murdering of Red's family. She lay sedated and motionless for days, or what at least felt like days. Liz began hallucinating as her perception of reality slipped further and further from her, the drugs overtaking control of her mind and body. _

_She's hearing voices, gentle voices that whispered promises into her ears that it will all be over soon; as her eyes remained pasted shut. _

_She listens as the door shrieks open, and footfalls come in a speedy sequence toward her. "It's time to go Lizzie" his voice is unnaturally grainy, sounding as if his larynx was trampled by a stampede of elephants since the last time they spoke. He unlatches her feet and her wrists freeing her from their tight restraints, Liz can't move even if she tried so they were pretty useless to keep around her anyway. She merely groans as he begins peeling her shorts off her replacing them with a pair of cotton pants. He looks over her wounds that adorn her abdomen and the blood stained sports bra she's been in for days – weeks maybe. Then lifts a sweatshirt from down by her feet and slips her head inside the hole gently. _

"_Where are we going?" she slurs as she tries to help him dress her but she had wet noodles for limbs, "where are you taking me?" _

"_To Reddington-" he grunts as he struggles to lift her back and slip her arms inside the sweatshirt. "Alex!" his voice roars "Help me-" he grunts again as her dead weight for a body collapses onto him. The sweatshirt only half covering her. _

"_Is it going to hurt?" she whispers faintly, she could hear him swallow as he pulls her higher onto his chest. Alex sliding the material down the rest of the way. "Whatever you're going to do- is it going to hurt?" she whimpers, as the fear of death she held at bay finally flood the gates bursting to the surface. _

_He doesn't offer her an answer as he lays her flat onto the table, using a needle to inject her IV line with something. His arms then slip under her legs and around her shoulder blades as he lifts her. Carrying her like a rag doll, and she can clearly see a flash of memory with him being in this position once before when she was younger – he carried her into her bedroom before the fire. She makes a strangled noise as she gapes up at him, and he looks at her curiously, but doesn't question the reaction as he started taking slow steps out of the operation room. _

_She's dosing off the longer they sway down the winding halls. Whatever drug he had given her is strong, everything around her was distorted, stretched and blurred and only came into an unbalanced focus if she squinted hard enough. They begin to climb stairs, her head banging against the solid chest of the Adversary as he with little effort at all scales them. "You're-Naval Academy?" her mouth struggles to form sentences her tongue desensitized and useless. "Red-" she tries to force the words out, but finds the connection from her brain to her mouth too scattered. _

"_Yes." he offers plainly continuing his climb, a bead of sweat trailing down the corner of his forehead and into his strong jaw. "Stop talking Lizzie," he whispers softly staring down into her eyes. "Sleep." _

"_Wake back up," she mewls, struggling to hold her head up and her eyes open."What if-" _

"_You'll wake up-" He cuts her off, stopping at the top landing. His breathing coming in short huffs as he tries to steady himself, he tosses her up slightly to adjust his hold, the jagged movement causes her to yell as pain burst out from every inch of her body. "It's going to be bright out there. Close your eyes." _

_She shakes her head, "The sun..." _

"_Open the door." He nods to Alex adjusting his hold but she was quickly slipping from his arms once again._

_It's painfully bright once the door opens to the outside world. The day was extremely warm and pleasant as he steps further into it. The universe had no idea what kind of hell existed behind that door she was carried through. The world still turned, as her own set to slowing to an eventual stop. _

_Liz forgot what fresh air and sunlight felt like. She soaks up little things like the birds chirping, and the breeze that whisks around her. Stares into the broken skylight, the tumbling cotton ball shaped clouds and the blazing sun's rays that streamed through them. Her tears were coming quicker leaving their hot trails down her cheeks and seeping down her neck. The Adversary didn't move, he stood for countless minutes allowing her to cry in his arms as she observed for the last time a peaceful morning. _

_He takes a step forward and Liz takes a deep inhale smelling the grass, him, herself and the blood – she reeked of iron and sweat. "Will it hurt?" she demands._

"_It might hurt if it doesn't happen as quickly as I intend," He proceeds toward a black van, the doors swing open when Alex raps his fist upon them. He hands her off to another man, "You should have gone for the euthanasia Lizzie." Alex hands him another needle and a vial as he climbs into the back with her. He punctures the needle through the top and pulls the syringe until it's almost completely full. Flicking the bubbles out he applies pressure causing a stream to shoot out. There is a little pinch as it breaks her skin. "Sleep," he mouths as he withdraws the needle from her "You're almost free." _

* * *

_When she regains consciousness she's highly alert, struggling against the arms of a man holding her upright. Trying to twist out of his hold as her legs were being bound at the ankles, her hands already back in their cuffs. "Don't," he whispers into her ear, there is a slight form of sympathy tinging his voice as he spoke."It's not worth it."_

_Alex at her ankles stands when he's finished and lands a forceful blow into one of her broken ribs. She struggles to inhale as her eyes go wide, Alex then sends a pointed look at the guy behind her. _

_Liz's eyes dart around the room as a cranking fills the area, cogwheels were turning and the slack line connected to her ankles tightens. Her stomach lurches, and she pulls harder from the arms around her. She's forced to hop as the rope gets tighter and tighter – starting to lift off the ground. The talkative man's arms slip under her armpits as she gains liftoff, her feet going up into the air steadily. _

_Liz's legs were ascending quickly now that the rope was shorter, her body at an awkward angle as her shoulders remained stationary. The new guy kept her head from going under by propping it against her shoulder, successfully stopping the blood from rushing too soon. "Breathe," he told her mildly, his voice as calm as can be. "Breathe or you'll faint" he then mimics breathing, deeply inhaling and exhaling while nodding his head in an encouraging manner. "Elizabeth-" he demands shaking her, "Breathe!" _

_Her eyes begin to roll back._

_Alex right away grips a lower rib in warning. "You keep screwing with her broken ribs you run the risk of piercing her lung!" the other nameless guy shouts, but Alex squeezes anyway, producing screams of agony out of Liz, her legs jutting out. Swinging and pulling further away from the chest she rest upon "Just because it was effective doesn't mean it was worth the risk of collapsing her lung." he spits, his arms wrapping tighter around her to draw her closer._

_She gasps at air, slipping so far away from herself. "What is your name?" she requests petrified, her body beginning to shake in his arms from pain and fear._

"_Does that matter?" his face wrinkles as he stares down his nose at her "Henry." he eventually answers while Alex scoffs - that was the first time she's heard him make any form of noise - both their faces come into her view. Both staring at her like they expected something from her. Alex taps Henry on his shoulder and they draw their eyes upward, she tries to look but their bulky shoulders obscure the view. _

"_It's time." She hears another unfamiliar voice call. _

_The cranking begins once more, Henry slowly releases her head - the blood instantly rushing down to it. "I'm really sorry about this-" he lets out bashfully, Liz watches in horror as he slips a hand into his back pocket and reveals a hunting knife. She wiggles and sways in the air unpredictably, but silent-Alex moves behind her and holds her level as the unenthusiastic Henry sticks it straight into the artery of her thigh, or near enough that it would go unnoticed that he missed the mark. Her outcries and the sounds of their boots snapping on the pavement as they disperse occupy and rebound around the stone walls of the room. _

_She begins to pant, craning her neck, watching as the crimson slowly falls from her leg, dripping down the handle of the blade. Blood was rushing everywhere as her head swelled with added pressure. Falling into a dizzy spell, Liz was growing weaker with every passing second. _

_She starts seeing spots, feeling a faint thudding of pulse thrum in her neck... her ears start to ring_

– _she blacks out. _

* * *

_She can taste smoke on her tongue – her lungs blackened from inhaling it, her breaths coming out in laborious wheezes – fire was somewhere in the distance but not too distant, they went through it – her leg was singed, she was carried through fire – she's being carried in someones arms... There are then figments of images that flash before her with the rushing of consciousness._

_Red. _

_She remembers Red getting her down, she remembers sobbing onto him... She tries to remember other details, she really tries but she was completely disjointed. She can sort of hear words being mumbled down to her as something wet fell onto her forehead – it felt like rain. It smelt like rain. _

_There is a booming noise, an explosion – then her and the person holding her are falling into a heap on the grass from the unexpected aftershocks traveling through the ground. She weakly forces her eyes to open and she can faintly see Dembe's face as everything cleared from blurred shapes into focus. He was holding her firmly in an embrace, short-winded as blood gushed from his forehead. He was speaking in what she assumed to be Wolof. _

_Liz struggles to turn her head in the direction of his empty stare, and sees the building encased in flames. Thick, obtuse shades of black and grey smoke with orange devilish faces licking at the night's sky._

_The eruption will be... _

_The words of the Adversary resonating in her ears. "No... No..." she whimpers when her voice finally recovers, it was rough as it broke through a cough – clearing some of the smoke that coated her tender throat. Dembe's eyes go wide as he looks down at her, cradling her head into his chest trying to shield her vision but Liz weakly pushes him back. _

_The world seemed to move in slow motion as she saw the walls of the building begin to exhaust. She searched frantically for movement, praying she would see Red emerge from the flames unharmed – her heart stops beating, the world stands still as she sees the first wall begin to cave in. It all happens so quickly after that..._

_Her tears mixed with the raindrops, as Liz's gut wrenching screams of horror and torment burst through the night; combating against the sounds of the building collapsing within itself. _

* * *

Though Will highly suggested she try to, she can't sleep. The entire time they fly across the world her eyes were glued out the window. It was ten or so plus hours of forlorn staring at parcels of land and dark bodies of water below them. Liz's body felt like it gained several tons of weight and pressure the longer they remained in the air. As tension, fearfulness, and various other mixed emotions took their hold on her seeping into her skin.

Liz was practically a zombie by the time he announces they were crossing the Mediterranean sea. Hardly listening to Will's voice coming over the intercom to alert her that she needs to prep for landing. She examines as they pass through the densely fluffed clouds, traveling over an island and the bluest body of water Liz has ever seen. Hypnotized by the hum of the plane, and the sound of the jets as they traveled over the mountainous terrain, craning her neck to look to the west at that beautiful oceanic view.

Her head sways slightly with the gently rocking of the plane as it turned toward the landing strip. The plane getting closer and closer to the thick black lines of the previous landings created down the tarmac. There is only a slight bump when the wheels kiss the ground, and her palms instantly perspire. "What am I doing?" she questions as everything all at once came to fruition.

"Are you ready?" Will approaches her slowly, he must have been watching her for a handful of minutes. She could feel his eyes trained upon her from the minute they became stationary after being taxied into the private area.

She steals a glance in his direction, before looking back out the window. "No I don't think that I am." comes out monotonously.

"Liz," he kneels before her seat. His hand hovers over hers before he gains the courage to make final contact. Her eyes turn to his atop her own, before meeting Will's tender gaze. "It's a little too late to be questioning yourself."

"I'm not sure I can do this." she can feel the wanly expression contort her features as Will looks on at her sympathetically.

He squeezes her hand gently "You must always do the things you feel you absolutely cannot. A person can only gain resolution by looking fear in the face and telling it to piss off." His encouraging words extract an unamused smile from Liz. "If you are afraid... you're on the right track." his thumb moves across the back of her hand in a comforting gesture. "Now, are you ready?" he asks firmly releasing his hold as she reluctantly nods.

He aids her as she stands onto wobbly feet, taking her luggage and wheeling behind her. She's barely ten steps away from the opening when some surreal feeling overwhelms her - She knows he's there. It was unexplainable, but she could feel his presence. She halts her movement suddenly concreted to the floor and Will collides into her back. "Did you tell him?" she turns to face him, their chests bumping in the closeness.

"No," his eyes go wide in shock "But that doesn't mean he couldn't track the plane Liz." Will sighs taking a step back. "I did the best I could-"

"I can't-" her breathing instantly turning into shallow huffs and puffs as she turns back toward the door, staring at the white light cascading inside. "I can't do this."

He pushes her not too gently forward "Channel it into something else, you _can_ do this."

Liz squares her shoulders, steadying her breathing as she takes an agitated step forward. One foot after the other she does channel the fear – she channels it into rage, her right fist clenching hard at her side.

She has tunnel vision and barely can grasp her surroundings as it narrows in on Red. There are several thoughts that upsurge her mind with every single footfall.

Step_ -_ _he looked thinner. _Step_ -_ _he had hair._ Step _-_ _there was a slight stubble dusting his cheeks._ Step_ -_ _why is he__ wearing prescription glasses? _Step_ - his normal attire was gone. _But everything is all silenced as her fist clashes firmly with his jaw – the noise of the connection shattering her disarray.

In her volatile state she must have tucked her thumb and ends up hurting herself just as badly. "Well that escalated quickly." she hears Will brush off behind her as she keels over clutching her hand, shaking it out as she fought through the pain. When it dulls into a pulsating throb she stands straightening her back, looking to Red who was touching a thumb to his bleeding lip.

"Red." Liz was surprised at how solid her voice sounded, when everything inside her was anything but solid.

"Lizzie..." Red looked so vacant in his body, his eyes were lacking the light they normally held in her presence and he appeared as tired as she imagined herself looking.

They stood in silence as they looked into each others eyes. The sun was casting their shadows into long lengths until they bled together and merged as one large blob. Yet the space between their actual proximity was like a split sea. Their walls of nervous strain building – both aware of Will's gawking existence; both unsure how to proceed further.

Her eyes flutter before they shutdown completely. Her chest heaved with heavy panting - her tongue brimming with words that go unsung. As hot tears slowly begin their declivity. A blanket of water tossed over the fiery rage and a puff of vapor emerges in its place. A pain rips its way through her on a violent riptide. It ached like nothing she ever experienced before, this was not a familiar scar of betrayal. This was an uncharted, unmeasured territory of utter anguish. Her head falls into her palms as she begins to softly weep.

She was disintegrating, and Liz didn't know if she could hold her weight much longer. Then she feels more than hears Red move forward, his arms wrapping around her and drawing her into his body. Her shaking only increasing on the next sniffle as Liz catches the essence of his familiar cologne, and it's in that moment that she falls into him completely. Liz's legs liquifying beneath her, finding that it was only Red that kept her from falling to the ground.

His head rests onto hers as her fists bang against his chest - she tries to push him away but he holds her securely in his arms. After a while she gives up, consenting the tears to run dry as her fingers wrap around his cotton shirt, squeezing the fabric and holding onto him for dear life.

When she slowly pulls away and stares painfully into his eyes Liz becomes transfixed. Her fingers release his shirt only to travel upward. Tracing the lines of his face and across the light bruising already tainting his skin. "This isn't a cruel dream is it?" she mumbles, hesitant to trust the sudden reality of it all.

A haunted expression bestows him as Red shakes his head, taking her scarred palm from his cheek. Bringing it softly to his lips, kissing the raised flesh as his eyes shut slowly. The light of the sun that catches his long lashes only enhancing their golden hue. "It was never my intention-" he begins, speaking it lowly allowing only herself to hear his words that escape him shamefully - he sounded so broken.

"You left me-" she cries in earnest, cutting him off. His body tenses as he turns his focus past her shoulder, a withering look upon him. "Do you have any idea what I went through?" she incriminates, but as angry as she was she couldn't pull away from him. She was intoxicated and placated by the smell of him. "I grieved for you..."

"I thought it would stop eventually." He admits weakly, "I thought you would move forward. You would be better off-"

At this she does shove him firmly at the center of his chest, rejecting his hold as she takes four steps backward. "You don't get to pretend like you understand me Red, you don't get to assume you know what I need." Her posture straightens as the steel coats her bones. His words like a flint strike ignited the flames once again. "I was traumatized... I had nightmares- I _still_ have nightmares-" she's basically growling at him, a rabid dog ready to sink her teeth into Red's flesh. Her eyes set to a glare, and he appears to recoil from her words. "And this is where you were? You really must have suffered greatly."

"Don't you dare, for any second believe it was easy for me to watch you go through what you did." with hostility in his words at her accusation Red is somewhat aggressive as he moves forward stealing the distance she gained between them. But fades into his passive state just as quickly once he's directly before her.

"I needed you." Liz exhales on a shaky breath.

"Lets not do this here, come with me back to my villa and we'll talk." His stern eyes soften as his hand timidly reaches for her elbow. "Okay?"

She nods, but twists away from his attempt at contact. She can see that it upsets Red to a certain degree. But they couldn't just dissolve into what they once were. Not with all the unsettled issues they had between the both of them. Her composure finally regained, and her backbone set - she deserved answers. Then and only then, when she received what she sought-after would she allow the other half of herself that wanted so desperately to be held by him again out of its cage. She hastily rips the luggage from a still bewildered Will and takes large strides after Red.

"Hey!" Will shouts after their retreating forms as they moved for the awaiting car. "What am I meant to do?"

"I'll wire you a payment." He turns to look at Will for a short moment with his hand on the handle of the door. Perhaps it was to even check to see if she indeed was still following him. "Enjoy Dubrovnik" Red throws very coldly over his shoulder.

He opens the door with more vigor than was necessary and waves his arm to indicate her entrance. But the gentleman gesture is done with such spite, that Liz finds her fist clenching down at her side. The half of herself rattling in that cage of her heart stopped the movement - retreating down the walls in defeat, as the other half struggled not to give in to the desire of punching Red again.

* * *

**AN:** _This chapter could not have come to fruition without the help of ltlearthquake and rebeccabraxton – without your input and encouragement I don't think I would have pushed so hard through the block. So thank you both from the bottom of my heart._

_While I myself am not overly enthusiastic about this chapter, it is as best as I am able to produce. Thank you for all the muse vibes guys, I still need them – the next chapter is the "talk" and again I am in a tight space with words/reasonings... and I am forever unsatisfied. Next chapter most likely will be the last, and then a possible epilogue - I'm still on the fence about it. _

_All mistakes are mine... and I highly value your opinions so please leave me a review of any kind. Happy Easter! :)_

_Thanks for reading!_

_- Red Herring_


	8. Until Exhausted, Close Our Eye Lids

Disclaimer can be found on the first chapter...

* * *

For a long length of their travels Liz gapes openly at Red, it was nearly impossible for her to deviate her attention. She studied the tight line his lips created and the subtle furrow in his brow, the sunken eyes and dark circles from lack of sleep. All the twitching in his cheek as her stares set him at a discomfort. "Please stop looking at me like I'm a ghost Lizzie." he mutters, his eyes still focused out of the window.

Red couldn't bring himself to look at her.

"You are though Red." She shifts gracelessly in her seat, turning so that she was resting her back against the frame of the door. The protruding arm rest sticking into her spine as her knee brushes his leg momentarily to find purchase on the leather seat.

Red shifts, trying to afford as much as the small space could provide him. "I am no more a ghost than you are yourself." He replies under his breath as he finally turns and looks at her. Perhaps it's the first time he truly looked at her since the plane landed and their little altercation occurred. She feels more than a little self-conscious under his compact stare.

"We make quite a pair don't we? Two former shells of people long disregarded." Liz answers with a troubled grin and doesn't miss the flinch her statement evokes from him.

His head falls back onto the head rest, looking forward at the driver for a few seconds before he turns his gaze back in her direction. With his cheek against the dark leather, and the most open and sincere look upon his face.

"What prompted you to chop off your hair?" the velvet texture of his voice sent a tiny shiver through her, she can only shrug in response afraid of what her voice might sound like. The little caged Liz in her heart began to overthrow the stronger-angrier half. She felt the adjustment like a rushed blow to the head, or rather chest. Her heart was pounding in sharp thuds against her chest walls – the anger was slipping away from her. "It looks nice, frames your face well."

"I seem to not be the only one who sought out change." his eyebrow raises in silent question of her statement. As if he has yet to notice his own changes five years time granted him. Or perhaps he was fishing for a compliment... Her mouth was all to happy to oblige, no matter how much she knew she shouldn't vocalize her inner musing. "I like the way you look with the glasses. It's all very – becoming." Liz can't conceal the upturn of her lips that forms. Her resolve already lost its edge, especially when his facial expression and eyes displayed an undefinable emotion that was making her feel unscathed and perhaps even beautiful. A feeling she hasn't felt in so long a time. She can't remember the last time someone looked at her like that, even before the fiasco with the Adversary.

_He did, he always looked at you like that..._ Liz's brain is all too eager to remind her.

Her chest rises and falls unevenly as she turns her eyes downward into her lap, embarrassed and slightly angry with herself for losing the battle with her stronger half so rapidly. "I am trying to make myself hate you, but I just can't fully manage it... I've never felt more alive and more dead at the same time." She feels his hand cup over her knee, squeezing it gently. Her head falls against the window, the vibration from the moving vehicle transferred through the glass causes her teeth to chatter. Liz surveys the roof of the car while contemplating if she wanted to continue talking or allow them to just lapse into silence.

She looks at him under the lids of her eyes as her hand reaches for his on her knee, slipping her fingers under and prying it off. There is a shade of a frown toying with his lips for a split moment thinking she was rejecting his form of consolation – but is quickly gone when she threads her fingers through his. Holding his hand as her body swayed with the gentle motion of the car. "It's not that I forgive you-" she mumbles gripping his hand a little firmer. "But I-" her lips clamp shut as she stops unwanted confessions of need from tumbling out.

"I understand." Red replies back simply, his thumb moving over the skin between her thumb and pointer finger. The soothing gesture mixed with the motions of the vehicle forces her to feel all the exhaustion she denied. Liz can feel herself begin to doze off – then all too soon they hit a bump and her head slams against the glass painfully. Liz groans and curses under her breath while rubbing the sore spot with her free hand, shooting Red a deadly glare as he shook his head struggling to disguise a smirk.

"If you say one smart ass remark... I will kill you." Liz threatens as she turns her legs forward and rests back onto the seat. His thumb continued to stroke across her hand, grazing her knuckle and then slipping back to that patch of skin, moving in a figure eight motion. His attention turned back to the world outside of the car.

Her eyes grow heavy with sleep once more, and she felt her body give in to shutting down.

* * *

Her jaw goes unhinged when they pull up to Red's villa, she doesn't know precisely what she expected. Though whatever she drummed up in her mind, it was nothing in compared to the actual home. The villa sat on higher ground than the other ones they passed. It faced toward the entire medieval city. Red was literally a stone throw away from everything the Old City had to offer. Even the sea was in his playground, Liz estimated it roughly one hundred meters away. It was so close you could hear it's roars from inside the car.

When she comments about the closeness, Red informed her they are also between the Old Harbor where Liz is sure he has a boat waiting to travel into the islands – or to just drift among the sways of the currents for the day, or perhaps even the night. Red was a man of the sea in a former life. She thinks it's poetic that he returned himself to the ocean in his _afterlife_.

"Red-" She grabs his wrist as he inserts the key into the lock. "I really don't want to talk right now. Just – my mind needs to retire." he nods as he twist the handle.

"Shall I give you a tour then?" He asks, she merely nods and takes the raised step into the entry.

Red doesn't position his hand onto the middle of her back as she assumed he would do – he simply stands a pace ahead of her. Taking her straight to the back of the house to work from the outside in. The property was composed of two separate houses, with a large courtyard in between the two. They pad around the trimmed grass, under the brush of trees, the salty air clinging to her skin as he guided her to the second house.

"It's empty." He shrugs a heavy shoulder. "You're welcome to use it for your stay." his speech very detached. "If it would make you more comfortable."

"Who says I would want to stay with you at all..." She rolls her eyes and turns back to head toward the main house. From the outside she could see two large terraces protruding out; the lower one was significantly smaller than the top. Cozier, and sealed in. both facing toward the city and ocean.

He guides around the first floor; the small terrace was exactly as she envisioned it being. It had a cozy dinning place, with sectional seating along the stoned walling. A square table that gave it a sort of booth effect. She could imagine him sitting with a newspaper while drinking a steaming cup of coffee out there each morning. Listening to the birds who never seemed to quiet, and the sounds of the city, with the constant lull of the water for further ambiance.

Everything about the outside was so peaceful.

While the outside was decorated in soft tans and chocolate browns. The colors inside the house are of off whites and pale primary colors, it was soothing on the eyes and comfortable.

The living room had a soft orange glow from the already lit fireplace as they walked around the arch into it. While the city wasn't unpleasantly cold she imagines with all the stone inside the house without the stabilizer of a fire it would be freezing inside. The room was equipped with white modern decor that off set all the dark grey stone textures of the walls, even the wooden flooring was dark, it was like a rustic and modern battle between the two contradicting designs.

He shows her the spacious kitchen that was accessible from the living room, "The house is very open concept and airy." she notes as he walks around the island, grabbing the decanter of wine and two glasses. _"_Give me a _holiday_ pour Red." Liz requests while drumming her fingers on the smooth marble of the counter top. He nods and fills it almost to the top before handing it off to her. Their fingers touch briefly in the exchange. "Shall we continue?" she clears her throat and takes a hearty drink from her glass.

On the other side of the dividing tempered glass wall that slid apart, was a massive wooden dining table in a dark chocolate brown wood. This side of the house was mostly fitting the modern design, the walls a muted sky blue color, and the floor a white marble. There is a spiral staircase that led up to she assumed bedrooms. It was inconveniently placed not to far from the dinning table.

"How many bedrooms?" She questions as they climb the stairs.

"Seven." Red laughs off the strangled noise she makes into her cup. "They each have their own en-suites and the two master bedrooms have patios of their own."

"What's on the upper terrace?" She questions as she walks toward the drawn curtains that concealed the glass and door that led outside. He quirks his head with a smirk.

"My reason for buying this villa." His arm reaches around her and grips the edge of the curtain, pulling and blinding them both with the flooding light. But when her eyes squinted and adjusted she was awestruck. A swimming pool covered most of the space. It was one of those edgeless pools that spilled over a stunning backdrop of the Mediterranean sea and city walls of Dubrovnik. Red unlocks the door, and pulls it in his direction. Gesturing for her to move forward, this time without any spite. The sunlight's reflection danced across the water in broken lines. The pool was surrounded by a colorful garden shaded with palm, oleanders and cypress trees. "I would never leave the house." she says in wonderment as she walked through the little grassy area.

"I hardly do." Red shrugs watching as she touches the petals of a fully bloomed flower hanging from the oleander tree, standing on her toes to smell its fragrance.

"A dead man would live humbly Red... this isn't humble in the slightest." Liz mocks. Gripping the grey stone wall as she peered over the edge and toward the city.

"I bought this villa as a living man." he points out while joining her, resting his elbows onto the ledge and sipping at his wine. The deep red staining his lips making them all the more appealing - _What is wrong with you Liz... - _she reprimands herself, and covers her scorn by drinking her wine. Not that Red was paying much attention to her anyway.

"This may be as close to heaven as one can get in my position." Everything about the statement was as grim as the way he delivered it.

"Where is Dembe?" she questions before any tension could descend around them. "The last time I saw him was when I woke up in the hospital. One of the nurses said he didn't leave my side during all four of the months I lay unconscious." she swallows heavily, her fingers around the stem of the glass strangle it in her tight hold. "I never had the chance to thank him."

"He's around, he likes to go fishing in the late afternoons." Red turns to look at her over his shoulder, then turns back to watching the city below.

"Ressler-" She observes a man in the distance mount a bike and head off in the direction of the beach. "Did he know the entire time? Was he involved in the faked death scheme?"

"No." Red rasps the single word out, but doesn't even attempt to expand into an explanation.

"How long?" the words push out through her gritted teeth. "How long did he know Red?" she demands as he remained silent.

"Dembe wasn't the only one at your bedside during those months Lizzie." The muscle in his jaw twitches. His mouth moving in that odd way it tended to, chewing the words that want to form, filtering out the ones to use and ones to discard. "He knew within the first week." he pushes away from the wall taking a few steps toward the two lounge chairs, slowly he descends down onto the stiff cushion. "He stood vigil and made it easier for me to slip in and out unnoticed. When you began to come around, I left Dembe beside you to keep me updated."

"Where did you go?" she questions, moving to join him on the opposite seat. She felt dull inside, as the alcohol settled on her empty stomach. Finding that she lacked the strength to be angry at the new found information. She knew she should be angry, she knew she should give him the hell he rightly deserved but – Liz is overly conflicted, especially seeing how affected Red appeared to be.

It didn't seem to her that these last five years were easy on him either. He surrounded himself in paradise but still remained in a sort of hell.

"For a while I stood in DC," Red sets his empty glass down on the small end table that was between the heads of the chairs. "I watched you-" he gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing in the movement dramatically. "The first year was a ceaseless struggle within myself. I constantly wanted to swoop into your apartment. Console you -" He pauses, his head tilting to the side regarding her. "I never meant to get you in this deep Lizzie." He looks earnestly at her, the raw emotion in his eyes causes her throat to grow tight. "The weeks of torture he subjected you to because of me. Your months of rehabilitation, the PTSD. Your years of mourning-" He inhales deeply and exhales as his eyes closed then open back slowly. "Even if I apologize it would never be good enough. It could never take those years of agony away from you." his voice became unsteady as he looked directly at her. "But, I am sorry Lizzie."

They are quiet for a long while, as her brain scattered and couldn't manage to piece back together again. "There was a time when I would have given anything for you to disappear from my life just as quickly as you appeared. It's funny how time could change someone's point of view, because when you actually were gone – it was like no matter how many breaths that I took I couldn't breathe. I might as well have died that night." Her hand was shaking as it held tighter to the stem of the glass. "I spent years wondering why he didn't kill me and I concluded-" her voice dips into a dark timbre as she stares down into the deep red of her wine, twirling it around making a conscious effort not to look at him. "I was spared to suffer the sins of our past. After what I cost you-"

"No." His voice is a deep startling rumble – like a bellow of thunder - as Red pushed past stifled emotions.

"Why did you leave me for so long Red?" She hates how insecure she sounded, Liz bites her cheek as she continues to stare into her wine.

"My inconsiderate action of abandonment was not something meant as further punishment if that is what you are skirting around. I just couldn't stick around knowing I caused you all of that pain, and I don't know what a man like myself could ever offer you Lizzie. Not when I know you deserve so much more."

Her shoulders slump. Red's comment was off-putting, the tone of his voice too open, too unguarded – evoking certain emotions not meant to be focused on at this point. A conversation that was not meant to be had – not at this point in time - there were other things to press on to... "What happened that night Red?" Liz finds the strength to pull her eyes away from the bottom of her glass, looking into him beseechingly. His face grows bleary as her vision mists over, Liz blinks wildly to will the intrusive tears away. "He said he was going to make you watch. Why didn't he kill me like he planned?"

"I don't know why his plans changed, it could have been any number of things." Red's lips form a tight line as his hand rubbed at the nape of his neck. "What do you remember happening?" His brows clinch together as he looks her over. She can tell he didn't want to warrant memories, but he also didn't want to overwhelm her with information she may fortunately misremember. "If it makes it easier, start from the beginning." Red suggests wistfully.

Her knee begins to bob, as anxiety begins to build. "I remember the place he held me prisoner. I don't even have to try to remember any of that. It's the easiest to recall, my senses grow overloaded. I can still smell the blood that hung in the air and the cleaning solutions that masked it, everything from my time spent in that room is perfectly stored away." Her heart rate continued to increase, her palms grew damp, her fingers cold. "The day we left the hideout, I remember him carrying me in his arms through long, winding steel hallways..." She can see the throbbing pulse of the vein in his neck – watches as his face flushes with boiling fury.

Liz actually freezes in fear, the words ceasing in her throat.

"Continue." the tone of his voice was even and controlled but his body language was betraying all the concealed ire.

"I remember him holding me in his arms as I cried thinking it was my last time experiencing the daylight." She gulps the last of the wine and sets her glass next to his. "He stuck me in a van, drugged me, then I woke up in the abandoned Naval Intelligence building. I never saw him after the brief moment in the van, his two henchmen hung me upside down and Henry... the one who stabbed me in the thigh. He was suppose to hit the Femoral artery but he missed the mark and I truly believe it was on purpose. There was something about him that wasn't like the others. He was so very, sympathetic of me-" she stares into the sky as she clearly sees the man's face flash before her. "After he stabbed my thigh they left me there. I blacked out and everything else." Liz shrugs, a breeze from the back blows her hair forward across her face. Goosebumps form and she shivers – not entirely from the wind - she watches as Red leans and twists at the waist, opening the hinged door of the side table. He pulls out a small grey knitted blanket, unfolding it and leaning forward to draw it around her shoulders tenderly. "I know you were there Red, I know you are the one who got me down. But until the explosion and waking outside with Dembe. All the in between is a heaping mess, like it was erased from my memory." The inside of her mouth drys almost instantly and she wished her empty glass would magically refill with wine. She pulls the blanket tighter around herself. "Don't sugar coat anything either, I need to know what happened." She's borderline begging.

His thumb moves over the fabric of the seat in a side to side motion as he held her eye contact. "There was a fire set in the room they hung you. It was a tempered fire, controlled by pyrotechnic devices. I believe it was meant to be a mocking portrayal of the last fire I saved you from, sort of like coming full circle. You were bleeding, coming and going in and out of consciousness, the entire room was rigged to go into flames at any moment." His hands join in his lap, and he begins to twiddle his thumbs. "After we located the control module we quickly got the room under our control. I used my tie to tourniquet your leg and we began to haul you down." He speaks steadily, just stating facts as if he was being debriefed. Then his eyes grow distant, they become far gone as he seeped deeper into the recollection. Liz closes her eyes to envision the words, trying to tie them to her own memory. "Once I got you down you started to apologize to me profusely, begging me to finally right the wrong from the last time we were in that very same situation." When Liz opens her eyes, Red's unblinking as he diverts his gaze down into the stone of the flooring, intently studying a wide crack that split the square into two. "You wanted me to let you burn in there. You told me you already came to terms with dying in honor of my cause. That you actually welcomed it, you didn't want to endure pain any longer. You didn't want to live with the guilt either. Then you just kept repeating 'let me die' over and over between sobs-" his face contorts and he hangs his head. "You lost a tremendous amount of blood, it was a small wonder how you stood conscious for so long. Your racked sobs exerted whatever strength you had left, and you eventually passed out. Dembe took you into his possession after that."

She instinctively takes to rubbing at her scar, using her nail to scratch at the marred flesh that was itching maddeningly. "What about the bomb... how did you get out of there?"

He slowly lifts his head, glancing at her fidgeting hands before meeting her eyes. "There are escape tunnels in government buildings, his plan was to get out through them. I beat him to the punch."

"And you are positive he's dead-" he merely nods at her disbelief. "How can you be so sure?"

"Besides the fact that I emptied an entire clip into his body. He was definitely present for the explosion." Red replied darkly, his brows lowering. He zones out – like he just detached himself from the situation completely - then he jerks back into lucidity. Inhaling sharply through his nose, his face dissolving into a neutral expression. His eyes narrow in on her fidgeting hands again. "Lizzie," Red scoots forward and takes her palm into his, stopping her nervous antics with his own thumb replacing hers; continuing to rub against the scar soothingly. "I meant what I said in the recording. It's not your fault that he killed my daughter. It should never be your burden to bear."

"My life is a contributing factor that aided in it Red." Her voice a mere whisper that could have been lost in the space between them should a breeze blow through. Her back haunches over, as her body wanted desperately to curl into a ball. "How am I not meant to feel guilty about that? If I died, she may have lived. You don't know."

"Lizzie," His free hand closing the gap and cupping her cheek under the veil of her hair. "Lizzie, look at me." he demands, and she reluctantly lifts her eyes to his. "If it didn't happen then, it would have happened eventually. Sooner or later my own actions would have had the same reaction. If it wasn't saving you, it would have been something else. I have tempted fate thousands of times and I've played this game of 'what if' just as frequently. I know now nothing could have altered her destiny. Or my own, that wasn't the life I was meant to have, and my wife made sure of that." Red continues to stroke her scar but his palm leaves her cheek. Her eyes trail his touch as it dipped up her wrist then down the entire length of her palm. It tingled wherever his fingers touched, the imprint of his hand burning the skin on her cheek. She wanted to feel more of his touch, she wanted more of the flames it brought to the otherwise lifeless flesh. Red held the key to awaking _Lizzie,_ this dead entity aching for life. "And I couldn't even begin to fathom a world without you in it." Liz's heart begun to thud so loudly in her chest that she's positive he could hear it; and if he could not hear it, Red could definitely feel it with his fingers on her pulse as they were. "I think we talked enough for one night." He clears his throat and pulls away from her. Dropping her hand and rubbing his palms down his thighs, before bracing to stand, using his knees as leverage.

"Why now," Liz chokes out as he finally stands, stopping him in his tracks. "Why invade my life now? If the storage locker was there for 9 years. I imagine you had this all planned out from the start... Why wait 5 years. Why now?" she repeats as she reaches out desperately, gripping the hem of his shirt holding him in place.

"It wasn't always used to hide the puzzle box, the locker was used frequently throughout our years of working together." He nods briefly observing her fingers that pinch the fabric. "It was only three years ago that I called in a favor Ressler owed me – he was the one that set the pieces on the board."

"If it was all set up three years ago, why would you wait until now to set it into motion?" She was growing increasingly frustrated the longer he took to prolong his answer. "And Will said he was there for five years... None of this is making sense to me right now."

Red shuffles on his feet. "When I left the country I hired Will, I guess as a sort of contingency plan. On the off chance you needed to escape. Donald knew of him, we weren't one-hundred percent sure you were safe, even with me dead." She squints her eyes at him as she tries to digest his statement. "Ressler was to give you the money and the new identity that was inside the puzzle box. If things got rough and uncontrollable, he was to present you with the option of running."

She laughs menacingly. "Red– you could have intervened years ago, without all the suffering and especially without all the theatrics. You still haven't answered why you chose to do so now."

She lets go of his shirt when he pulls lightly away from her hold. "It wasn't safe enough. I still had a lot of work to do before I truly was dead to both of my worlds – and as much as it pained me to do so I was willing to let you go if it meant you living life freely or at least so I thought." She looks at him puzzled. Letting out an exasperated huff Red continues. "Donald made contact a few days before the anniversary... updating me on your well being, or lack there of. He told me you were giving up-" Red seemed to be debating himself on whether to trug through this unguarded, or to bite his tongue. "It was then that I realized I couldn't truly bear the thought of losing you. In theory it's easy to ignore, until that open door slowly started to close. With you accepting my death perhaps you could have finally moved forward. But a selfish part of me reacted rather impulsively, and I intervened. I had to stick my foot in and keep it pried open for a little longer. I needed to grant you closure, and the choice before accepting it being slammed shut forever." He stops, bends over and grabs the two glasses concealing his face from her.

"I had weak days Red." She throws the blanket off her shoulder and stands just as he turned and tried to maneuver around her – trapping him and stealing his personal space, their bodies a hairs width apart from one another. "But I can't say I would have ever given up fully, not until real evidence was found to prove my persistent hope wrong."

"You really should try to sleep Lizzie, it's been a long day." He offers her a small smile as he again tries to move around her. But Liz quickly adjusts and blocks him between her once again.

She worries at her lip as his chin falls toward his chest. "They prescribed several drugs through the years to try and help, but I have long forgotten what it's like to sleep Red. There are demons that live in my dreams." Liz hooks her finger under his chin, pushing upward, pressuring him into looking at her as he previously did to her. "With my eyes closed and my mind open. I hear his voice telling me what he did to your daughter, I see all those weeks of torture replay. Feeling the pain I felt as if it was happening all over again." Her voice quivers. But she refuses to lose her nerve, so she pushes onward. "I watch you die every night in different ways, it's not always with fire. My mind has grown creative over the years." Liz's thumb moves across his chin, the stubble scratching at the pad. "How do you want me to close my eyes when the ghost that has haunted me has materialized?"

"I'm not going anywhere Lizzie." he promises softly, the somberness around them potent.

"No you're not." She nods in agreement, taking the glasses from his hands and throwing them onto the empty chair. "Because you are going to lay beside me," his eyes widen from her statement, thrown off by the demanding tone in which she spoke. "It's what I need Red." she rationalizes wrapping her fingers around his wrist, basically dragging him into the first bedroom adjacent to her.

He opens the doors to the large casement window once they are inside the bedroom - the room itself wasn't too uncomfortably warm - but she sensed he needed the air. His shoulders were tensed as his hands gripped the wooden frames tightly. The rustling of Liz moving the blankets pulls him from his reprieve. She can see in her peripheral his chest expand and deflate as he huffs out a deep exhale. Red then turns, and helps her turn down the bed without further speaking. He's a little hesitant as they both slip beneath the thick blanket. But Red settles in beside her regardless of his inner objections.

They both turn to lay on their sides facing one another. They were close enough that Liz can feel the heat radiating off his body. Her hand has its own agenda as it goes against her inner restraint of reaching out to touch him. Both sets of eyes follow the movement as it began closing the tiny gap between them, the tips itching to feel his skin beneath them. It was like she needed the constant affirmation that he was in fact real. "Sorry I punched you," she apologizes as her touch ghosts along his jaw, her knuckle then grazing down his cheek – both of them know her statement wasn't necessarily true. "No I'm not, actually." she smirks and finds his eyes begin to beam. A slight shimmer of light returned to them that couldn't be accountable to the setting sun light that displayed across his face.

"I deserved it," Red's eyes flutter and close as he relished the feel of her fingers that roamed his skin. "I'm just trying to weather your storm Lizzie. If hitting me makes you feel better by all means, strike me," her palm flattens on his cheek before venturing to his hairline, the sharp hairs of his stubble scratching against her flesh. "And if laying in bed with me beside you helps in some way, I certainly won't object to that either."

Liz shakes her head, when his eyes reopen to hers. "I don't plan on wasting time being angry with you. Even though I am highly aware that I have every right to be. I should be enraged, I just don't have the strength, or the energy to afford the effort it would take. I'm done living in the past Red, especially when the present is so fleeting." she expels, and she can't quite extinguish the doleful look that takes hold of her. "We both sustained enough torment, I don't want to add anymore to it." her hand slips into his downy hair and threads through it. Her lips part into a grin when his head moves along with every soft movement, she appeared to have stumbled upon a weakness that left him blissful. "Although I do believe you are meant to be comforting me," she teases lightly. "Since you are getting off easy, I expect you to coddle me Red."

"You only need to speak the words," He looked drowsy as he regards her sincerely. "And you know I'll do it."

"I think, I just need to be held." Liz admits shyly, feeling heat spread over her cheeks and seep into her neck.

His arms are slow and a little unsure as they circle around her, dragging her into his warm embrace. She smiles into his shoulder when Red lets out the most endearing sound of contentment. Her pointer finger begins walking up and down his upper arm. "I still half expect that I am going to close my eyes and open them only to find myself alone in Hempstead's bedroom." his hand spans the length of her back as she held tighter to him. She feels his lips kiss the side of her head, and she emits her own noise of contentment. "I don't want to wake up alone Red."

"I'll be here when you wake up, I assure you." He swears as his hand rubs up and down her spine.

The lapse into a soothing silence. The soft sounds emitted from their inhales and exhales are the only noises that filled the room. That was at least until Red began to hum _The Anniversary Waltz_ to her. His hand plays at the base of her spine, and she lets out a long jagged breath. She turns her head and nuzzles into the crook of his neck. She can feel the strum of his cords as he continued to hum and pet her back. She felt limp - not only was her body dulled but her mind was as well. There was no lingering fear of what awaited when she closed her eyes, for the first time in five years. Liz was safe within the refuge of Red's arms, ever fiber of her being knew it. He whispers something into her ear, but she was already half asleep and not coherent enough to understand.

0o0o0

Liz can't remember the last time she had a dreamless sleep, or the last time she woke numb and unafraid. Her body was toward the window, the light piercing through her eyelids, she looks through tiny slits in her eyes. Red at some point must have partially closed and adjusted the curtains while she was sleeping.

The sun was already high in the sky, the birds outside singing loudly basking in the new day. A soft breeze drifts inside and causes her to shiver; and Red immediately covers her exposed shoulder with the fallen blanket. She continues to feign sleeping, when she realizes that his finger was delicately brushing along the raised scar that adorned her hip. Her tongue juts out and swipes over her bottom lip before clinching it between her teeth, she struggled to control her breathing. Especially as Red grows a little bolder in his tracing, moving further under the hem. He halts the movement half way up the jagged scar understanding it went higher, but declined to explore exactly how far.

Her heart was racing, thudding heavily in her ears. She couldn't take it anymore, "It stops about an inch higher." she exhales breathlessly, and his touching freezes – caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Are there many that still remain?" His voice was rough from lack of use, and she is highly aware that she's being exposed to what Red was like in the morning – what he sounded like when he woke up – she stores the sound deep in her memory. Their entire situation felt far too intimate. But perhaps the scariest part was that it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as she imagined it should feel. Liz was happy she couldn't see his face. Her thoughts of being spooned by Red, and the throaty sound of his voice was causing her to flush.

"More than I care to count." Liz admits. She can feel him tense behind her, "Daddy-dearest did quite a number on me." She tries to make her voice sound light but fails in doing so, her remark only enhancing Red's anger and the tension in the room. "I knew what I signed up for when I turned myself into his possession... the battle scars aren't the worst of things I was left with." His fingers spread apart and slide out of her shirt.

"You didn't have to turn yourself over to him."

"Yes I did-" Liz scoffs.

"I never would have allowed it." Red untangles himself from behind her as he turned onto his back. His arm slipping beneath his head, as his other hand sat upon his chest.

"It wasn't your choice to make." She flips over awkwardly so she could face him.

"I promised to protect you, and I am the one who willingly put you in danger regularly for my own benefits. I dragged you into darkness when you should have remained in the light." his voice was tight, his eyes void of emotion.

The tides have turned from peaceful, to sullen so quickly.

"I told you I don't want to live in the past. It's done and over with-" She shoves her knee into his hip, causing him to glower at her. "You are not aloud to brood." She rolls her eyes.

"Should I ask the unasked question..."

"What unasked question?" she ponders as she props up on her elbows, inching back until she could rest against the headboard.

"How long are you staying in Croatia Lizzie?" even though it was phrased as an simple question, it came across as a loaded one.

She frowns and watches as his right hand on his chest lifts and finds her left one on the blanket. His touches are feather light as they run along the back of her hand, and then over the knuckles. His eyes still staring forward at the wall. She turns her hand so their palms meet, his fingers slide through hers. "Not nearly long enough." Liz utters despairingly.

* * *

**AN: **_Firstly- I am terribly sorry that this took so long to update. Work really got in the way of things and I was traveling loads. This chapter also got away from me and it has reached nearly 15k words... That is without editing all the mess, so it will probably get condensed down, but this is the first half. Secondly- That means there is one more (long) chapter before the epilogue. (And... It's definitely Strong-T maybe M-Rated... So I'm going to run and hide for a while after posting the next update...) __  
_

_I hope this chapter is okay, I really don't have the time to obsess over it... As always mistakes are mine, and your reviews keep me trudging along, and I enjoy your feedback so don't be shy :)_

_Thanks for reading, _

_- Red Herring _


	9. We'd Share Each Other Like An Island (1)

Disclaimer : I still own nothing...

_Part One of Two..._

* * *

The wafting smell of bacon and the sounds of the sizzling could be distinctly heard as she dragged herself into the kitchen. She takes a moment to fully absorb the image of Red, his glasses slightly fogged from the heat of the stove and the added humidity in the home.

An entire handful of days have slipped away without her brain even registering them being gone. But their mornings always began like this, her waking up to Red cooking breakfast. She finds that they have glided quite casually, perhaps even effortlessly into this illusion of simple domestic life. "Good morning." She hums slipping up beside him, her hip resting on the marble counter.

"Morning." He grins expertly folding the eggs over in a half-moon.

"Is there anything you aren't particularly good at Red?" She jokes, turning to open the cabinet with the plates. Grabbing one and holding it out so he could slide the omelet out of the pan. He seems to contemplate her question, rummaging through and ranking his skills. "I'm just going to assume your silence is a no." She laughs and lays the plate down onto the counter.

"I'm not very tech savvy." He shrugs, and tilts scrambled eggs into the hot pan.

They lapse into a comfortable silence as he continues to cook. The front door clicks open, and both turn their heads to glance at each other. "Raymond?" they hear the familiar voice call. The smile that graces Liz is quite simply glowing. When he rounds the arch and enters the kitchen her feet carry her quickly toward the tall man. He looks surprised to see her, and his hard face softens once her arms wrap tightly around him. "Dembe," She sighs, and inhales the outdoor sea-like smell that clung to him. "I've been waiting for you to show up." His warm laugh is felt as it rebounded through his chest and into hers. She pulls away and gazes up into his eyes. "I never had a chance to thank you," he appears confused as he held her gaze. "For sticking around during my recovery."

The quiet man grins at her. "Think nothing of it Liz."

"Are you hungry?" Red questions over his shoulder. "I could make more-"

"We have to talk." Dembe cuts him off, his soft eyes transforming back into their previous hard stare, there is a problematic unwavering tone in his voice that sets Liz at an unease almost immediately. "Now."

Red's whole body grows tense. He twists off the nobs of the stove and removes the bacon. "How about we go outside," the straight to business way he speaks increases the dread that pits itself into her stomach. "Excuse me Lizzie." his face is unreadable as he plates her dish and sets it on the counter.

She watches as the pair bustle away, talking in hushed tones as they make for the front door.

Her appetite vanished.

It's late afternoon by the time Red returns without Dembe in toe. She's out on the top terrace with her legs in the pool. They push and pull through the water as she swayed them up and down slowly. She's been a nervous wreck since he's left, the motion of the water and redundant action the only remedy for calming herself. The gentle sloshing mixing with the loud gurgling of the filters; the sounds of the city life and coos of pigeons on rooftops. It was almost enough of a distraction to keep her mind from drumming up wild theories about what could be conspiring.

She hears him slide the door closed behind him, she doesn't glance over her shoulder to peer at him. Afraid of what emotion she might find on his face. She closes her eyes when his palm slides onto her shoulder, giving it the slightest squeeze. "If it's bad, I don't wish to hear it." she advised, her swinging legs stilling and resting against the roughly textured wall.

She squints up at him, semi-blinded by the falling sun's rays. "It's not necessarily bad," He assures her while releasing his hold on her shoulder. "As I came to reason with a few months ago, I'll probably have to leave Dubrovnik for a short time soon. Dembe discovered something today that set off some alarms."

"I thought you said you were dead to both worlds..." She begins to swing her legs again, a heaviness set in her heart. Liz didn't like the thought of Red on the run.

"Some doubts still remain, and I imagine it will always persist to exist." He stares off into the distance over the landscape. "The price on my head only increased with death."

"Will you come back?" She questions softly.

"In time." He nods and looks down at her half frowning – half smiling

"I really enjoy it here." She notes while lifting her legs out of the water. Red's hand is instantly offered and she takes it with a soft grin. He guides her up into a standing position. "Thanks." She murmurs dusting off her pants.

"Are you alright?" He questions timidly, his eyes roaming over her face before recapturing her eyes once more.

"I'm fine, I just don't like the thought of you still being on the run." She attempts to reassure him with a tame smile, though she doesn't think it came across very reassuring.

"One might assume you were worried about me Lizzie." Red teases, following her into the garden area.

"Why wouldn't I be worried?" Liz sighs and sits on the lounge chair under the shade of the trees. She's moves over and grants Red the room to join her. "That isn't exactly information I wanted to hear Red..." He doesn't speak, doesn't offer any comforting words that would suggest that it wouldn't always be this way. It was unfortunate, but like herself, the FBI, and the volatile vengeful people in Red's world, no one would be truly satisfied until Raymond Reddington's body was found five years charred and decomposed, or very recently bound and broken.

"Have there been any other threats since you've been _dead_?" Liz questions after several quiet moments stretch between them. The sun began to hang low in the sky, the glow upon the water looked like dancing flames on reflective glass.

"This is the first." Red speaks, and Liz wonders if she is to fault for the sudden attention brought to Dubrovnik. She's scared to voice it, afraid he might confirm her dreaded thought. "It's not because of you," He huffs a short laugh, "really Lizzie, your poker face has not improved at all."

"Red," she reaches over and touches his knee, "Can I ask you something completely off topic?"

"Of course." His hand cups over hers.

"You mentioned something about your wife that has been buzzing around my brain, and it really won't leave me be," Liz's eyes downcast to her bare feet as she awaits his deflection. Red remains silent, she finds the strength to lift her eyes back up to him. Liz continues, "What did you mean she would-"

"She wasn't any different from Tom." Red cuts Liz's question short, his body grows tense beside her and he takes his hand off of hers. "Perhaps she was a bit worst." the muscle under his eye twitches.

"Say no more." She rubs her palm over his knee. "I'm sorry I brought it up." Liz mentions quietly, focusing out on the horizon.

"You don't have to apologize Lizzie." He assures her, "Why don't we go inside and join Dembe for dinner? I'm famished." Red smiles at her before he begins to stand. That jovial mask of his making an appearance.

Her question did that to him.

"I'm going to shower, you guys go ahead." Liz shrugs, reclining back on the lounger and watching the sun sink further from the skyline. He knows there is something bothering her further, but he doesn't prod her for answers. He leaves her quietly so she could brood alone.

Liz finds the boys setting the dinning table when she emerges from the upstairs, stalling on the middle stair as she smelt the heady smell of whatever drifted in from the kitchen. Her stomach growled and she laid a palm over her middle, thankful the boys were laughing too animatedly to hear the noise. "Liz," Dembe grins up at her, "I wasn't sure you would be joining us."

She smiles at him, "I wouldn't miss an opportunity to spend time with you Dembe."

Dembe's smile only widens further and she swears there is a tinge of a blush on his cheeks.

Dembe served them a Mediterranean fish stew with garlic toast, and Liz felt completely sedated after the meal. She was so full and incredibly sleepy as the three of them stacked the mess in the kitchen. But she refused to allow Dembe to do the cleaning; it was only fair since he was the one who cooked. Red took to drying the dishes, even though she persisted it was unneeded. They worked like a well oiled machine. This domestic illusion was causing Liz to have rather unsettling thoughts.

"How long will you be with us Liz?" Dembe questions from his seat at the breakfast bar.

Liz tenses and Red side-eyes her as he continued to gently dry the bowl in his hand. "Four or so more days." She answers pensively.

They moved into the living room once the kitchen was under control, warmed by the fire and dulled by the alcohol. Liz places her head beside Red's shoulder on the back of the chair. Not truly touching, just close enough to be gruntled by his proximity. Liz enjoyed listening to the tales both men were overly eager to share with her about their past.

"You did not!" Liz laughs gripping her side and wiping away the stray tears that fall from her hysterics.

"I did," Red scratches at his head while letting out a slight laugh, Dembe confirms the tale by nodding. "And let me tell you, it wasn't the worst trudge through a sewer tunnel I have ever experienced."

"That's disgusting." She breathes out through attempts to stop the laughter.

"The smell lasted for weeks." Dembe notes, slouching further in his own seat.

Red removes himself for a few minutes after the tale, venturing into the wine cellar to find some vintage bottle. Liz in her stupor gazes openly at Dembe, propelled by the alcohol to speak what is on her mind. "Can I ask you something Dembe?" Liz speaks delicately, "Something personal..." He nods and clasps his hands over his lap – she made him feel vulnerable. "Does it bother you, whenever people see your scar on your shoulder?" Liz snaps her eyes shut, shielding herself from his reaction.

"I am not ashamed of my scars -" He begins, no offense found in his delivery.

"Neither am I," She cuts him off, she waves her hand blindly in the air, as if to wash his statement away. Opens her eyes, absorbing the understanding found in his. "It's the looks of pity..." she finishes, huffing it out exasperatedly. "I can't stand those damn piteous looks."

* * *

It was rather refreshing. Being able to ask Red questions about herself and not have them deflected; as they lay in bed that night, she works up the courage to bring up Sam – not yet willing enough to hear of the fire he saved her from though.

Red began to glow at the prospect of sharing stories of Sam.

"How did you meet?" She expels softly, as his arms wrapped around her loosely. She could listen to him recount precious memories for hours. His enthusiasm was infectious. Red appreciated life like no other person she has ever come across – it was a small wonder considering how dour things in his life could be – perhaps it was a coping mechanism.

"In preschool," Red begins, and he laughs lightly. "Sam was a very timid boy, it was his first day and he was absolutely terrified of being without his mother and sister." Red's finger twirled a strand of her hair, running it through his fingers. Liz was quickly feeling sleep approach from the soothing movement. "I walked over to him, took his hand and told him he could sit with me." Red sighs, "And the rest was as they say... history." Silence stretches between them. "We got in quite a lot of trouble Sam and I," Red speaks placidly, "We couldn't be more opposite. I taught him how to pick a lock and he taught me how to mend a broken heart."

"Chocolate?" Liz giggles peering up at Red who smiled warmly down to her. "Sam swore chocolate was the cure for everything." He nods in agreement.

"Anything Sam did, it always stemmed from the heart. He was as good a guy as they came. When I approached him in preschool I thought I was saving him... little did I know how much he would be the one to actually save me."

If it were up to her Liz decides, she never would leave the confines of his bedroom, would never stop listening to his narrations. "If I propose we remain in this bed for the remainder of my stay," Liz smiles drawing a circle over his heart, as she held his eye contact. "Would you object?"

There is no passing judgment set in his characteristics at her request, only a tenderness that causes Liz's heart to skip several beats. "Don't you want to see the city?" He questions skimming the back of his finger down her cheek. "Lokrum Island is quite beautiful-" he adds.

"I'm satisfied with never leaving the villa," the ventricles of her heart pinch tight as she looks deeper into his eyes. "I would be more than happy remaining here with you." the ten worded statement oppressed with double meaning doesn't bypass Red. His eyes soften, watching as she with boldness began to close the short gap between them.

His mouth is a mere fraction from her own, Liz became more than a little hesitant as she lingered there. She could feel him exhale from his nose, the gentleness of the pushed air falling upon her bottom lip. She swallows heavily, her eyes quickly shifting from his eyes to his lips. The pounding of his heart could be felt under her palm – the beats not too far off from her own. She licks her bottom lip, stalling another moment – perhaps half expecting Red to protest - then she rests her mouth against his. At first Red does nothing against the pressure of her lips. It's more than a little off-putting, but it doesn't waver her movement.

Red begins to soften, sighing into her mouth just as Liz moves her lips more purposeful over his own, slowly but surely incorporating her tongue. She's not nearly prepared for the recuperation on Red's part however. In a flash he's turning the direction of the slow movements into a lustful disordered clashing of teeth and tongues. She swears she's seeing tiny bursts of colored lights through her opaque vision as his mouth expertly moved up and down her neck, touching upon sensitive areas she didn't know existed. His hands roaming over her leaving nothing but heat in their wake. "Red -" she breathes his name, her voice thick and slightly laced with fear, the sound surprises even Liz. He pulls away quickly, looking at her with concern potent in his features, _He thinks he did something wrong._ "As much as I wouldn't mind progressing this further," She bites at her lip, tries to make him understand it was her to fault. She grips his shoulders, "It's been a long time-" _and I'm not remotely capable of revealing my scars to you, just yet._

"Lizzie," He grins at her, and the back of his finger touches down her cheek tenderly. "How ever far you want to go, is as far as we'll go." She nods, cupping her palms over his cheeks and pulling him back toward her mouth. The hunger of before dissipating back into mild and tantalizing.

She hears a crash from the balcony, something being knocked over and then hurried scurrying. She pulls apart from Red's lips abruptly, but he seemed non-pulsed, his stubble scratches at her jaw as he places his lips beneath her earlobe. "What was that?" she questions, looking at the doors for the unknown threat to appear.

"That would be Pontos, with impeccable timing..." Red laughs pulling away, tossing the blanket from their bodies. He untangles himself from her limbs and walks toward the doors of the balcony. "He's a little blind in one eye." He opens the door and a long-haired grey and black cat sauntered inside.

"You have a cat?" her face wrinkles, watching as the feline rubbed against his legs. "How did he even get up here?"

"He climbs that large tree-" Red points at the large tree then looks down proudly at the cat now loudly purring as its tail wrapped around Red's legs. "And takes a leap of faith I suppose."

"I would never take you for a cat owner Red." She giggles as he scoops and lifts the furry creature.

"I found him on the docks as a mewling kitten, he was quite ill. Nothing but skin, bones, and atrociously matted fur." Red explains bringing the cat to the bed, and placing him down gently. She frowns with her lip protruding outward, and Red rolls his eyes just slightly at her girlish reaction. "I couldn't leave him, so I brought him back here and nursed him back to health. I never planned on keeping him, and he really doesn't have the personality of a _kept_ animal. He comes and goes freely, he prefers to be on the docks or surprisingly enough in the water." the cat stalks over to her, smelling her knuckles before he begins to rub his head against it.

She scratches behind the cat's ears. His purring grows louder, Pontos stretches his legs and settles in beside her. The cat watching as Red slides back into bed, adjusting the blanket and trapping Pontos beneath it. The cat enjoys it however, roaming and swiping at Red's hand that teased him atop the blanket.

This playful side of Red was enticing. "We had a sea cat on my Navy ship," he smiles as the cat catches his finger, Red peels the blanket off and allows him to escape. "Her name was Spaghetti." He begins to laugh lightly, and she smiles delightedly at him. "I don't know why they named her that... but she was an odd little thing. Liked to sleep on your face. I swear she was trying to smother one of my shipmates. She hated him."

"You're a closet cat person." She teases, the cat maneuvers between them, and licks at Red's arm.

"Or perhaps I am just an animal person." He suggests, allowing the feline to subside in his lap.

She falls into a daze as she watches the _Concierge of Crime _pet this scraggly animal. She's lost in space, lost in untamed thoughts and mixed emotions that have a heavier feeling than simple fondness and growing affection.

Liz didn't have many first kisses penciled away in her memory, but she's quite certain none of them had the same cliché 'firework' feeling as the one previously shared with Red. Not even with her husband...Her mind grows numb at the grainy memories of their first encounter. _Yikes, _she mentally shudders, but quickly realizes she said it aloud – the slip causes Liz to blush. Red looks at her strangely and she waves him off, "Not you..."

"I figured as much." He was still looking at her curiously, expecting her to speak. But she shakes her head, protesting his silent prying.

_It could just be years of repressed lust..._ Liz reasons, slinking further down the bed. Their little kissing session was officially put to an end with the appearance of Pontos. Probably for the best, she thinks – if it continued even at the slow pace, Liz doubted she would have kept a grip on her inhibitions.

_They say absence makes the heart grow fonder_...

Liz winces, and turns to face away from Red, shielding herself from his vision. He could read her too well to risk him catching a glimpse at this inner battle of hers. This tight rope that she was walking began to sway violently, the blindfold over her eyes sheering. The drumming inside her chest was so thunderous, she swears that he can hear the almighty sound. A siren was ringing loudly in her ears, and the truth she's been denying was bursting through like morning cut through the night sky.

It was growing louder, and louder... Until she was forced to deal with it. _She loved him_.

* * *

_AN: __Perhaps I am not ready to let this fic go... And that's why this last chapter is giving me such a hard time. Even the One-Shot project I'm using as a distraction can't remedy my struggle with this Fic. I had to cut this chapter in half (this portion has been done for over 5 or so days now, I didn't want to keep it any longer) The second half is mostly complete, it may come shortly. It's rating is definitely in the high-T-possibly-M rating. _

_Thank you guys for sticking with me, for the support and the reviews throughout this journey. _

_With Love,_

_- Red Herring_


	10. We'd Share Each Other Like An Island (2)

_ I still don't own a thing... Absolutely nothing... _

_**Warning** : This chapter includes sexual content and adult themes that may not be suitable for the younglings... _

* * *

Days were blurring into one.

The closer Liz got to leaving Red, her nightmares began to slowly reappear. Changing circumstances, instead of nights of terror at the Adversary's hand, she watches in clouded vision of what life could be like with Red. They all began jubilantly enough, sometimes with children... then abruptly the whole image grows ghastly and she wakes up panting and pulling from his comforting touches.

"Everything will be okay." he would calmly whisper to her once she regained full consciousness. He didn't know what it was she would dream about, he refused to ask – his only wish appeared to be the ability of taking them away from her. It pained him to see her that way, Liz could read it as it coiled upon his face.

While she could easily get lost in the soothing words he tells her – even though she feels they are mostly-lies with only partial truths – what was she to do after today, after tonight? When she was boarding a plane - when the protection and the safety found only within his arms was unavailable to her - when loneliness and an empty bed was all that awaited on the other side.

Red pulls her tighter against his chest, spooning the back of her. Shielding her from herself – engulfing her with warmth.

The dawn was breaking and she watched it numbly, it was only hours left to share with him now. By this time tomorrow she'll be readying to leave.

* * *

_Night comes quicker than she anticipated. _

Liz watches as the fractured moonlight broke upon the sea. Leaning heavily against the stone wall with the soft knit blanket wrapped firmly over her shoulders. She could feel his eyes that bore into her back from his position on the bed. Their last day together was spent with an awkward tension between the pair. Red took her into the city, guided her around Sponza Palace. He even took her through the Old Harbor on his boat. But even the fresh air and liveliness wasn't enough to break her mood.

Her eyes slip closed as she concentrates in on the movements as he leaves the bed to join her outside.

Red slips up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist. "Why is it that when you want time to slow down it moves at such a merciless pace?" She whispers into the wind, leaning her head back against him. Red's lips touch her temple lingering against it before retreating. His cheek presses against the side of her head, a deep sigh escaping him.

He hasn't tried to persuade her to stay, they both know that she can't. She had to return back to work, she had to live a life full of lies, at least for a little longer; and he had to disappear, vanish from whatever it was Dembe found lurking in the shadows.

He distracts her from her glum thoughts once he begins to pepper her lower jaw with feather light kisses. His chest was pressed decadently into her back. Liz reaches her arm upward, her hand sliding into his hair before gripping at the base of his neck.

Red's lips moved over her neck at an excruciatingly slow pace. Emitting out an oppressed breath, Liz leans further back into him. Her neck curving to grant him more access to her available skin. She giggles when he reaches a ticklish spot and she can feel his lips part into a smile against her.

"Stop thinking so much Lizzie. I can hear those wheels of yours spinning at an ominous pace." Liz hears Red mutter beside her ear.

It's then in that moment that she thinks she's ready to break the last barrier between them – there wouldn't be a better time than now – with one stipulation.

"I've think I'm ready to -" Liz begins, but halts. "I just need you to promise me something," She turns so they were pressed chest to chest, her back scraping against the stone, but she ignores the sting. Red waits for her to continue, his face unwavering in its neutral position. "Promise me you won't retreat into anger."

"What could you possibly do that would make me angry?" Red's own cogs seemed to begin to turn at the possibilities.

Actions spoke louder than words and even if she could usher the words, Liz wasn't sure she had the courage to voice them. So Liz takes his wrist and pulls him without answering his question - Red follows, _he trusts her blindly_ – Liz continued guiding them the few feet back into his bedroom. Walks to the suite door and twists the lock behind her - it seemed to click then with the sound of the lock, what she was alluding to. Red's entire demeanor changes, it became tense but accepting all at once.

Liz rests her back against the wood as she looks up through her eyelashes at him. Her fingers begin to work at the buttons on her shirt. "Promise me." she demands before reaching the half-way point and stopping.

"I promise." the words emerge from a rasping voice, Red's eyes never left hers.

Liz's heart was beating like wings in her hands.

She pulls her arms out of the sleeves of her top, and tosses it off to the side. Leaving herself only in the camisole she wore beneath it. "You can come closer," She mentions timidly, a blush finding its way across her upper cheeks as he silently obeys. Red closes the gap between their bodies. Trapping her against himself and the door by placing his palms against the door, leaving her in between.

"Touch me," she exhales a quick-shaky breath. Red's hand skirts down her bare arm lightly. "I want you to lead," She whispers softly, leaning forward so she could press her head to his shoulder. "I trust you."

His hands continue to touch lightly down her outer arms, his eyes soft and warm despite finding the boxed square around her Brachial artery. He gently twists her arm and she follows the movement exposing more of the scar to him. His fingers travel along the lines. Red looks at her and it's almost as if he verbally apologizes to her without even ushering a single word.

She trembles when his lips touch the unmarked center - _over the kill-zone – _Liz can feel her pulse jump beneath his lips."Red, I'm going to be honest with you," Liz grips his upper arms as his mouth moved up and then over her clavicle, his thumb brushed the underside of her breast. Her knees grow weak, "I truly don't think my legs will hold me upright, especially if you continue what you're doing." his laugh vibrates against the hollow of her throat.

Red slips his arm around her back and scoops her up in a surprisingly graceful movement, taking her toward the bed. Liz feels the heat of her body as it increased and pooled in the pit of her stomach, her thoughts becoming nothing but fuzz as he lays her down gently in the center.

The sounds of their lips meeting shunning out the murmurs of the outside world that floated inside.

Her airy panting fills the space around them once he drifts away from kissing her. She watches as he lifts the corner of her top – resting his chest atop her thighs, his face mere inches from her skin.

Red's eyes were glinting along with the black and white sky that was projected in from the open balcony. Either at the prospect of this granted familiarity – or perhaps they twinkled over the fact that Liz trusted him enough to see what no one but herself has seen.

The lines he paints with soft - almost not even there - fleeting touches, tickle and provoke her simultaneously. He examines every scar along her right side as if they are sacred scrolls waiting to be deciphered and analyzed. For a long time he's silent in his exploration, eyes darkened as his lips pinch into a tight line, trying desperately to keep his promise to her. Though she knows the worst the marks got the harder it was for him to quell his true feelings. Red was putting in a valiant effort for her sake.

His eyes scan as his fingers moved, studying every raised or faded silver line along with the curves of her body. Etching it into his memory as if this would be the last time they would be together. Her hand reaches over and touches his upper arm, slipping under the sleeve to feel his skin. When she glides over the first piece of raised flesh she has to stop herself from gasping. Her thoughts that want to stray to the fire almost disrupt the moment, until she forces herself to concentrate back on Red's actions.

When he gets to the electrical burn – now more a skin discoloration - Red couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it, he pauses - his eyes lift to hers in silent question, as his palm lukewarm and calloused pressed flat over top it. "It's an electrical burn," She answers unsteadily – struggling to keep her breaths even - he shakes his head as the corner of his lip turns down. "If you squint, it kind of looks like a tree," she laughs, but it dies in her throat as Red leans even closer.

Liz beholds on baited breath, as he slowly covers the branches that expand from the odd tree shaped burn in hot open mouth kisses. The muscles jumping and tensing beneath the subdued feeling of his lips. She lets out a ragged exhale as her hip lifts and turns toward him. Her hand finding purchase in his hair, nails scratching at his skull, bunching strands in between her clenched fingers. Liz struggles to keep the noises that rattle her chest at bay - has to bite hard at her bottom lip to withhold the moan that wants to ebb its way out.

He lifts her top higher, fumbling to raise the other side as his mouth continued in its slow pursuit of covering every bared inch of her. Liz immediately rushes to his aid, wasting no time at all as she pulls it quickly over her head. It's only when his eyes narrow and squint at her left side that she remembers the tattoo, Liz winces.

"A Swallow?" A playful look bestows him, Red began shifting his weight from his one side to the other to better examine the design. The borderline-medium sized bird flew along her upper left ribcage as the feather it shed fell at a downward angle behind it. Both pieces concealed another electrical burn.

The cover artist who inked it was some kind of magician. You couldn't even tell what was under the black and white bird or feather. "That's a sailor tattoo Lizzie..." Red teases her in a sort of singsong way.

"I am aware." she nods as tears gather unbidden. She blinks them away and swallows heavily, the significance and position of the tattoo dangles between the both of them; taking on a dense spirit like a whole other entity entering the room. The way he was looking at her... it was indescribable. Liz couldn't hold on to it any longer.

She diverts her eyes and props up on her elbows, trusting the shadow that half covers her face was enough to hide her own emotions. Her vision blurs and her hearing blocks out everything besides the blood rushing into them. She needed to take his focus off of the tattoo, "Take off your shirt Red." she demands.

"I'm not nearly done with you yet," his eyes widen before they squint at her, and if he were a less controlled man she imagines Red's lips would have formed a pout.

"That's fine." She nods, elbows collapsing ungracefully as her back fell on the mattress. "But," her hands touch the bottom of his white undershirt, sliding the material upward, revealing his hips and light trail of hair from beneath his bellybutton that led into his pants. "The shirt is coming off - you seen the scars you blame yourself for... now let me see the ones I blame myself for."

Liz grins as his hands gather the material behind his head and yank it over swiftly. A movement she still couldn't figure the mechanics of. She wondered if guys felt the same way when they watched a girl remove her top in the 'cross over' manner.

"Better?" he mocks, breaking her out of her random inner thought – Liz nods.

There are so many tiny details to take in, so many silver scars with their own stories to tell – far more colorful stories Liz is sure. She can just make out the marred flesh that began on the backs of his upper arms. Liz assumed it covered most of his back. Her hand reaches forward, touching the beginning of the raised flesh, trying to conceal the frown that wishes to form. Her eyes fall shut as she inhales shakily, turning into his knuckles that graze down her cheek. When she reopens her eyes she focuses on the tattoos she's familiar with; only because of the FBI's documentation and the tiny pictures in Ressler's files.

The Spade and Spider on his right upper arm; and then the shattered Compass Rose being carried from the feet of a Swallow on his left ribcage. Faded and aged in comparison to hers that was barely scratching upon two years of settlement. He guides himself back down, touching his forehead to her own as he held his weight on his forearms. "It was for you." she admits, though she knows the confirmation through words is unneeded. Her palm flattens over the center of his bird, before she starts to lightly move her fingers over the outline.

"Do you want the long story or the shorten version. Because I feel obligated to clarify." Red grins wickedly as he leans and kisses the corner of her mouth, Liz turns toward the second kiss and meets his mouth languorously. When her nails dig painfully into his neck he lets out a primal grunt against her. But it wasn't enough to stop him from kissing her. "Short version – I was highly intoxicated." she mumbles when he pulls apart, his nose gliding down her cheek and then her neck. As his mouth randomly sucked, licked, and nipped random spots he knew she enjoyed. "You know what– the story can wait." Liz groans, her hips rising on their own violation, arching against his; aching for the physical contact that he wouldn't allow. His left hand slips between their bodies and pushes her back down to the bed, as he shook his head and uttered a grating '_No'_.

Red holds her firmly in place as the tip of his tongue moved between the valley of her breasts all the way down to above her navel.

_Patience Liz._

She could hardly hear the words he mutters over her skin, they get lost upon the pounding of her erratic heartbeats that deafened her. She inhales sharply through her nose, and tries to get a grip upon herself. Though she was completely wanton. Wriggling beneath the roaming hands that moved along and teased her inner thighs as his mouth cruelly tortured her.

"I was inebriated for all of my tattoos. I was rather young, at the time they seemed right. It was a bonding experience..." Red mentions nonchalantly, the words moving against her stomach before his lips close an inch above her bellybutton, right over another set of scars – three claw like marks – of which she fails to remember their origins. Red's fingers slip under the waist band of her cotton sleeping pants, folding the elastic band down. Stopping the folding only when both her hips were accessible to view, his palm runs along the flat space of her pelvic region, pausing in the center.

Her head feels like a it was split completely in half, her skin was aflame, her lungs aching.

It felt wonderful.

"Don't think the significance of your tattoos are lost upon me Lizzie." Red's pupils were impossibly dilated - like a shark who caught the whiff of blood in the water - yet they were also somehow shining with a deep admiration that broke through all the desire.

He brushes along the scar he discovered in bed the first morning she was with him, pressing into the dips and jagged curves where they had to remove the infectious tissue. "Was there any inch of you that he left untouched?"

Liz knows it's a rhetorical question, but she shakes her head in response anyway. His eyes close before his head presses heavily into her stomach. Wrapping his arm around her and holding her close, his uneven stormy huffs fall upon her hip bone. The tears that fall from the corner of her eyes go unnoticed, as she ran her fingers through his hair soothingly.

The sexual strain of the room instantly reversed into nothing but clinging desperation and darkness. Peering down at his fully exposed back, and all the burn marks that tainted and twisted the skin, Liz's stomach flips. Knowing they existed and actually seeing the traumas were two completely different pills to swallow. "Red," Liz chokes out, she could feel his eyes pinch together tightly at the sound, his long lashes sweeping over her in the action. Her lip quivers, a shaky hand runs up and down the marred flesh of his shoulder blade. Before flowing down the length of his arm, turning at his elbow to follow the line where it hooked over her hip.

"I survived," Liz's voice cracks and Red lifts his head to look up at her. She quickly was losing control over herself, all the desire dwindling away into a polar opposite feeling of what she wanted to be experiencing. "We survived." Liz corrects, her voice growing a little firmer. She cups his cheeks between her palms, "_Come back to me._" She whispers, her eyes pleading with his deeply distracted ones. Her thumb moves gently over his cheek, maintaining his eye contact waiting and watching for the fire to be sparked back within him.

Red blinks a few times, before he releases his hold and inches upward. His lips fitting over her own. She moans into his mouth when his tongue glides past her lips, their bodies rocking together like waves building up to break upon the shore. Red's weight falls onto her awkwardly when he loses his balance, causing her to grunt and huff a breath into his mouth before it settles – he tries to twist and take less off of her but she pulls at his shoulder forcing him to remain. The weight was comforting.

The pad of his thumb works at erasing the evidence of her tears. "Do you want to stop?" he questions when she breaks apart from his lips and ducks her head into the crook of his neck. Liz was holding a little too tightly. "Lizzie, we can stop if you want to."

"No," Liz shakes her head against him. She kisses the tendon between his shoulder and neck, "Just, give me a minute." Liz pushes him at his side, so Red lifts his hold allowing her to escape from beneath him. "I'm okay." she swears, scooting off the bed then dashing into the bathroom. Once behind the door she turns the light on and grips the edge of the counter top. Running the cold water as she takes in her appearance. Her body featured pink marks made by Red's stubble and mouth. Despite the anxiety that was unwillingly building, the image caused Liz to smile. She takes several moments to gather herself, before leaning over and splashing her face with the cold water.

Liz opens the door slowly. The brighter light spilling out and mixing into the softer natural light. She leans against the frame and stares openly at Red. His back propped against the headboard, hands clasped in his lap, hair jutting out in awkward angles. Red looked extremely enticing.

He offers her a tender slightly boyish smile that reaches upward his eyes; as her own eyes unabashedly roam over him. "I want a turn now Red." Liz emits as she pads over to him.

Climbing over the foot of the bed and his legs, and straddling over his thighs. His eyes capture hers as her hands begin their own paths of exploratory touching. Pausing along a deep diagonal scar that spans over his lower rib and partial stomach.

"Pirate." Red mouths and her nose wrinkles in disbelief.

"So you're telling me... in our modern world," Liz laughs incandescently. "There are sea pirates who still carry swords?"

"It was a knife," He tilts his head to the side, the inkling of a smile on his lips at her amusement. "It's not like he had me _walk the plank. _It's cute that you immediately went with a rather cartoonish characterization of a pirate though." he jests, his hands lift from his sides and touch her ribs, his fingers touching upon her tattoo – he was absolutely enthralled by it.

Her laughter continues, and it draws a genuine laugh out of Red.

Liz reaches forward, fingers dusting over the mark she gave him nine years ago. If you didn't know where to look, you never would see the remaining mark of the scar.

Liz's chest pressing against his, her nose touches his carotid and can just pick up the rapid pulse that thrummed there. "I didn't even think twice before I stuck the pen in your neck." she takes in the scent of him, the smell of his cologne and the sea.

Intoxicating.

"You don't regret it do you?" He sounds disappointed at the thought that she might, his hand travels to the base of her spine and she shudders below it.

"No." She feels the words rebound from his neck back onto her lips, then feels a draw to close them around the scar, so she follows through. Her tongue sweeping over the thicker damaged tissue.

Red doesn't conceal his own sounds of arousal - as Liz did - everything with him in regard to her was always an open page to be read. Perhaps that was what always drew her to him. He concealed details from her sure – but he's never lied to her – he was always a constant in her unpredictable life.

_Red was the shelter and the storm._

He's never concealed the way he's felt about her either, Liz just chose to ignore it. It was easier to ignore, when she herself was conflicted with her own feelings toward him. By the time she came to terms, he was already gone from her life and it was far too late – or at least she assumed it was too late.

There was no questioning how far Red would go to protect her, how much he was willing to sacrifice...

Her heart feels like it erupts within its cavity as a dawning of realization steps into the light from the dark recesses of her heart and conscious mind. She startles apart from him as if she plunged from the hanger of a plane without a parachute. "When did it change?" Liz spits out, she had no control over the words that began to tumble out. Her hands lay heavy on his pectoral muscles. "When did you know?"

"Know what?" Red's brow furrows as he voices his question - Liz knows he's thrown off - she herself is thrown off. He had no idea what she's vaguely asking.

"How you felt – about me." She falls back on her bottom, sitting on his lower stomach in wonderment. His lips press together, and he sits upward, forcing their bodies into a tighter more intimate position. He cups her cheeks between his fevered palms. "When did I turn from a disposable chess piece," Liz gulps, her hands fell from where they rest on his chest down to her thighs. "Into something more... human." Liz's dancing around what she truly means to ask.

But she knows that Red understands. _When did I become more to you than just a key to the Adversary? When did it turn from doing anything within your power to keep me alive for the benefit of your game – to actually keeping me safe because you wanted me alive. To the point where your endgame plans were altered, and the stakes grew higher; because you were no longer willing to sacrifice me. _

_When did your undying affection and love begin?_

"You were never the _pawn_ on the board Lizzie, you always underestimate your value. You were always more than just a disposable piece. I never would have let anything happen to you. Especially trading your life for my own needs. Do you know how terrified and reckless I became when you turned yourself over to him?" Red shakes his head, and she's taken aback by the statement. "My feelings however came long before you ever seen or acknowledged me as _human._ They may have even formed upon your descent down those stairs at the Post Office. When you first came to meet me..." Red smiles, but its smothered under the sadness set in his eyes. "I don't think I fully expected this outcome to come to be though." his thumb moves over her bottom lip slowly.

"I had really embarrassing, highly erotic dreams of you that night after we met. To the point that I even felt guilty upon waking." Her voice was growing thick with arousal from the memory, her confession seems to take Red by surprise. His eyebrow quirks up and his eyes begin to shine. "It was that cocky way you held yourself. The amount of confidence you maintained while being shackled to that chair like an animal. You even opened your arms, like you were presenting yourself to me at one point." Liz rocks to adjust herself in his lap and Red grunts at the pressure and sudden contact. Their thin sleeping pants left only the thinnest barrier between them. "You coerced sexual tension between us almost immediately."

"Did I?" he responds sarcastically.

"So don't tell me you never expected this outcome Red. You're a patient man, even if you had doubts, there was still the inkling that you would succeed. You wanted me," Liz breathes into the shell of his ear, hears him inhale sharply through his nose. "and you wanted me to want you." Red's hands grip her hips tighter, pulling them from their lifted position back down into his lap. Limiting her from any attempts of rising off of him. She lets out a faint laugh, relishing in the slight power she all of a sudden held over him. It was exhilarating to have such a disciplined man at her mercy.

"You knew exactly how to draw me in," Liz rolls her hips, pressing herself harder against him. Doesn't even bother concealing a throaty moan from releasing. "Even your comment about _deep throat, and g-spots... _everything was by design,"

"To peak your interest? Shall I introduce you at least to one of those things?" The seductive tone in his speech sent the loveliest little electric pulses through her veins, her arousal increasing upon his promising words alone.

Liz gasps, and arches back as his fingers slide under the waistband of her pants teasingly.

Red's composure was regained.

Liz wanted to break it - She smiles wolfishly, as her tongue swipes over her exposed teeth. Leaning she bites at his ear, then hums pleasingly, "Shall I show you the other?"

Her unexpected comment causes Red to roll his neck back and his eyes to flicker shut, his lips parting - it was quite the sight to bear witness to - Liz smiles at her success. "_We're going to make a great team._" Liz utters into his throat, before dragging her teeth across his flesh.

"I truly don't deserve you." He mumbles into the thinned air.

"Who is to determine what it is we deserve?" She bites his jaw roughly, and he flinches. "Don't place me upon a pedestal – it's never where I was meant to be." She squeezed his shoulders, massaging away the tensed muscle. "There is no one else who makes me feel the way that you do Red," She sighs heavily, "Let me decide who or what I think I deserve." Her hands find his down by her thighs and grasps them tightly.

"And we both deserve this." Their hands push and pull against each other - palms pressing together, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to join - his fingers spread apart allowing hers to tangle between the spaces. She leans forward, sharing every inhale and exhale, as noses touched their lips remained a half inch apart. "Stop lashing yourself with all this self doubt, you're all that I ever needed."

"Lizzie," he speaks her name in a tone she's never detected from him, the sound sweeter than anything she's ever heard before. Red slowly seals the tiny gap, and she can taste the words that go unstated through the soft and caressing way his mouth moved over hers.

Liz doesn't need to hear how important she is to him, and she doesn't need the reassurance that he cared deeply for her. She knew – she's always known. Liz struggles to reason with why it took her so long to understand it before. She struggles to see why it took her so long to get to this point herself. _She's wasted so much time... _

She feels their shared emotions trap deep within her throat, with their chests pressed together she wasn't completely sure who's heartbeat she was even feeling anymore. Both mingling and completely in sync with one another.

* * *

She won't sleep, even though her body wanted nothing more than to slip into the deepest of slumbers. Liz was all too aware of the awaiting plane at the airport that would cart her back to DC. So she fought her eyelids, as she listened to the level beating of Red's heart. Watches as his chest rose and fell in the dim light of the setting moon. Absorbing the serenity of the scene, and tucking it into her deepest of memories. She wishes she could just stay in this moment forever.

Red's fingertips occasionally run along the length of her side, and though his eyes were closed she knew he was awake. She pleads with time to slow down, watching as the sky outside grew brighter, the stars beginning to burn out one by one. "What happens when I don't want to get on that plane Red?" Liz's voice was so weak, it was barely audible as it pushed through her sorrow and out her mouth. She wraps her arm tighter around his stomach.

"You can come back anytime you want to." Red turns to kiss the crown of her head. "This is only the beginning Lizzie." he promises, and she truly believes him.

They lapse into an aching silence for several outstretched moments; and Liz knows Red was retiring into sleep. "They always return..." her arm slides away as her palm touches along his stomach. Turning in the direction of her face and stopping under her chin, forming into a perch to rest upon so she could view his face. Her leg brushes his as she turns her body slightly more onto her stomach. "Swallows always return home," Red peers down at her through his heavy lidded eyes. "That's why I got the tattoo Red. I _will_ come back."

His lips quirk into a lazy smile. "Another funny factoid about Swallows..." Red begins, the tip of his finger slid over her cheek tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "From what I understand - they mate for life."

Liz smiled wide and natural – as if it emanated from her heart – and finds the same smile mirrored upon him. She rocks upward, closing her mouth over his.

_It's only the beginning..._

* * *

_**AN**: Well... This is it (actually, there is the epilogue which I am still working on, so I suppose it's not 'it' completely) _

_When I began this... I never imagined or expected this overwhelming response that it has received. Truly, without your constant support this would have died a long time ago. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart. _

_I hope this was a worthwhile ride, with a satisfying enough ending. I struggled deeply with this chapter to the point of frustrated tears, but I hope it came together in a 'loving - natural' manner. _

_As always mistakes are mine and your reviews are cherished and always welcomed so please don't be shy. Thanks for reading. _

_With the sincerest love and gratitude,_

_- Red Herring_

_For those that are unfamiliar with the symbolism of Swallows/Feather tattoos, a single fallen feather may be symbolic of loss, and while Swallows are traditionally used to mark nautical miles for a sailor. They're also seen as being a good omen, since Swallows being seen at sea meant land was close. Sailors would wear it as a reflection for safety upon returning home - Swallows return home every year, no matter where they are. There are also alternative meanings behind them, like love and loyalty, freedom and even loss._

_So I liked the idea that Lizzie got the tattoo as a remembrance as well as a good faith that he would eventually come home - perhaps to see it for himself. ;)_


	11. Sets Me Down In Your Warm Arms

No benefits made. Owns nothing.

* * *

(Epilogue)

He stands a few paces back as he watches her carefully descend down to sit at the edge of the dock. The watery sunlight warm upon her skin, pink, gold, and sparkling.

_The entire world fell away, drained of all color but her._

She turns and looks back at him, a smile on her face as breathtaking as the setting sun. Liz waves her arm, calling him over to her; but he remains stationary, stunned by the beauty of her.

Her laughter breaks him out of his inner musing. His eyes refocus and he sees what she's laughing at. Pontos was swiping at something in the water. Her hysterics only increases when Hudson barks causing the cat to lose his grip and fall in.

Red proceeds down the rest of the way and takes a seat beside her. The wood hot on the soles of his feet, the water just barely enough to settle the fire.

He thought of her constantly as he hid away in the dustiest corners of Earth. He tossed and turned in the night, he never slept. His body would move from place to place, went wherever he willed it to go – but his heart and soul was left in his bedroom in Dubrovnik. Where the memory of their last night together still lingered in the air.

It felt like there was something broken inside – and all Red knew was he was completely lost from the moment her plane taxied down the tarmac and out of his sight. She was always in his head through the months of burrowing. The promise of her return was like the air he needed to breathe, the food of life to keep his strength when there was nothing to eat – the mirage of shade from the grueling sun that burned holes through his skin.

"You okay?" Liz's voice breaks him out of his thoughts as she began scooting closer to him.

"I'm fine," Red smiles wrapping his arm over her shoulder, her head immediately falls against his chest. "More than fine." he inhales the sweet smell of her shampoo. Liz smelt like summer, more than summer itself. He breathes her in again, placing his cheek to rest against her.

Red glances down and watches as her hand stroked over her distended stomach. An unexpected curve-ball life decided to throw their way once they assumed everything was settling into a comfortable position.

When she returned to him, he knew immediately. From the moment she stepped off the first stair there was a glow to her that couldn't be described – he knew it wasn't just because they were reunited – his gut wouldn't allow him to simplify it as such.

He actually began to laugh at the difference of the scene as she proceeded over to him. Her arms wrapping around him, instead of hurling a clenched fist at his jaw.

Liz kissed him until he couldn't breathe anything but the shared air transferred between them. When she broke away, she told him of the pregnancy – and when Liz began to cry – he felt himself withholding tears, his throat constricting tightly as she took his hand and placed it over the slightest of pouches.

Liz stills and looks at him, poking him in his side, bringing his remaining distracted thoughts back to the present. "Give me your hand." she mentions quickly and he adjusts his position, his right hand releases its hold on the wooden dock moving into the open air between them. She grabs it and turns his palm, moving it around her stomach softly. "Now talk," she grins sheepishly at him, "He likes the sound of your voice."

"What should I talk about?" Red kisses her forehead, his thumb sweeping lazily over the swell. "Perhaps chocolate cake? He has an infinite love for it." he jests and Liz begins to giggle. He doesn't believe he'll ever get sick of hearing it."Or is that just asking for trouble?"

"I can always go for chocolate cake," Liz humphs and then she moves his hand quickly to the opposite side it rests; then he feels the tiny thud of a foot kicking. "Told you he likes you." She winks and tips her face upward to kiss him. "It could easily have been the prospect of chocolate cake though..."

Red's heart began to beat wildly against his chest.

_There were words he wished to speak, but they haven't been spoken aloud._

His expression must betray him, because he sees as the tears gather in the whites of her eyes. "I do too," she whispers faintly before resting her head against him.

If he were to die in this very second – this would be the moment he would want to relive over and over.

_Red wonders what he did to deserve this. Wonders what alined in the stars that turned his tides so dramatically. But all he truly knew – was that for the first time in what felt like an entire lifetime – Raymond Reddington was at peace, and optimistic about what the promised future harbored for him._

_The End..._

* * *

_AN: Mistakes are mine, reviews are always cherished. _

_Thanks for reading guys *a giant heart belongs right here, one for everyone* _

_With Love And The Utmost Gratitude,_

_- Red Herring _

___(Checking off the complete button really broke my heart...)_


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